Out Of The Dark Change
by Crowhop
Summary: “He's insane.” “That one’s obsessed.” “He’s a hopeless idealist,” we say. And yet, is there a definite line between reality and imbalance? We're all unstable in one way or another---sometimes it just takes a bit too much turmoil to create
1. Clouded The Sky

~Foreword~ 

Well, life's been an absolutely bruising good ride lately, but I'm back. Alive, partially sane, and mostly in one piece, I've managed to survive and find time to finish the thing. It's done. You know what that means---more adventure! More fun! More drama! More unstable demi-maren! More information, finally, on the dreams that were mentioned alllllll the way back in the first story! More annoyingly vague references to the wet noodles! Bleh, you've no idea how happy I am to have finished this…had the absolute time of my life, but I think all those late nights are finally catching up to me.

Getting on to something that actually has a point, I am perfectly aware of the fact that one of my worst vices, as an author, is my tendency to write extremely long and horribly annoying author's notes. This time around I'm going to try and put everything that is important in this one right here, and then hopefully there won't be any others. Please bear with me.

*ahem* I am currently on 'Frankie', our…hang on, lemme count…uh…nearly ten-year-old computer. It takes me more than half an hour to upload a chapter with Frankie, due to his utter slug of a loading pace, and putting up this entire thing in one sitting would be murder. Ergo, please don't take this as a sign of priggishness, but I'm going to wait until I have at least two reviews for a chapter before I put up the next. I know that at least two people are reading this, and I'd very much appreciate it if you'd take the time to click on that lil' blue button at the bottom and let me know that you read this. Therefore I won't feel like I'm sitting in front of the computer for half an hour for no reason other than to help along my mother's idea that I spend too much time on the thing.

If you do review, please---criticize! Tell me if it's too long or too short a chapter, tell me if it was too boring or too fast-paced, tell me what I did wrong, tell me which character didn't have enough screen time or was so annoying you wanted to slap them out a window, tell me what was unrealistic, tell me what was stupid, tell me what was spelled wrong, tell me what was absolutely pointless. I need all the help I can get, as you know! Any and all criticisms and complaints will be received gratefully; flame me if you think I deserve it. (Compliments are the best, obviously, but I want the truth.) 

That said, thanks so much for all your kindness, patience, and encouragement, everyone. I feel extremely honored to have such a nice group of people who are willing to read and review my stuff---thank you ever so much!

There, I do believe that's all. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: "My name is Gandalf, and in the name of the pointy hat, I will punish you!!" ---Insomnia

__

The sky has given over

its bitterness.

Out of the dark change

all day long

rain falls and falls

as if it would never end…

Spring Storm, by William Carlos Williams

~Out Of The Dark Change~

__

Have we not seen

Purple of the pansy

out of the mulch

and mold

crawl

into a dusk

of velvet?

blur of yellow?

Almost we thought from nowhere but it was the silence,

the future,

working.

The Answer, by Carl Sandburg 

Chapter One:

Clouded The Sky

"Gimme back my pike!"

"It's mine!"

"No, _that_ one's yours! _That_ one's _mine_!"

"It's mine!"

"Mine!"

"MISS LUNA!"

Miss Luna, sparring instructor, youth trainer, and occasional advocate of sanity, found herself taking on the title of argument decider. Unfortunately, despite being quite multi-talented, she was not a morning person.

"All right, whose is it?" She glared at the two young nightmaren, hair dreadlocked from being denied the attention of a comb, as always, and expression very fierce.

This question did not solve the problem. "It's MINE!" exclaimed both verbal combatants at once.

Luna sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. "PM?"

Postmeridian, known for being the peacemaker, was often called upon to relate any difficult situation as it had unfolded; he had a good memory, and did not elaborate. He himself did not enjoy doing so---he usually made at least one enemy when he did. This time was different. 

"Actually, that's mine."

Miss Luna's hand slipped down to cover her eyes as she tried to decide what to do: laugh, mutter to herself, yell, or sigh again. She went with the last.

The two maren who had both been valiantly defending their ownership of the weapon in question blinked, looking from PM back to the weapon between them. Luna stepped in at this point. "Okay, PM, take it and get in line. You two, where are your weapons? _Your_ weapons?"

Both shrugged, beginning to search for their respective items. Luna nodded gratefully at PM. "And that's not a pike," she added over her shoulder. "It's a lance."

"Yes'm," replied the two obediently.

Miss Luna began polishing her own blade, waiting patiently for the class to get themselves organized and out of the armory. She shot a scathing glare at Morgan, who was chuckling. "Shut up."

"Yes'm," mimicked Morgen. He chuckled once more and continued sorting arrows. Morgen was the odd one of the armory, his eyes made of pure silver irises and no pupils, his hair a mist of silver that floated about his pale face; the 'silver albino swordsman', to quote Amaranth the blacksmith. He was an actor, a person who was constantly imitating people or trying to find drama in life, moving in small, fluttering motions like a bird as he went about his work of cleaning weapons and keeping the armory organized. He was quite good at what he did. 

Right now the actor was humming to himself, juggling several arrows to the delight of the students around him. He tossed the batch casually to one side and began sorting another, now singing as he did. "Sing a dey dillo, green grows the willow; lark in the trees and green grass a-growing. Icicles are shorter, turning fast to water; see the green grass and hear the lark sing. Fresh leaves are growing, coming up showing; the woods are leaving Winter and welcoming Spring! Sing a dey dillo, green grows the willow, lark in the trees and green grass a-growing!"

Remembering her duties as an instructor, Luna stopped listening to the song and focused on her students. "Are you done yet?"

"I can't find my pike!" wailed a nightmaren in response. "Someone took it!"

Luna stood and strode over to the girl. "It's a lance. Where did you put it?"

"Here." The maren looked close to tears. She was very enthusiastic about her precious 'pike'; after all, Miss Luna carried one, and Miss Luna was Aster's idol. 

Morgen interrupted what could have become a touchy moment. "You looking for a lance with a blue feather? Grey grip?"

The girl nodded hopefully. Morgen shrugged. "That one was broken a day ago---someone came through looking for a lance, and they borrowed that one. It was broken in a fight with a golem, I'm told."

"Broken?" Aster's eyes began to fill with tears.

"A golem?" Luna was more concerned with the latter part of the sentence. "As in, a stone monster the size of Clawz that was supposedly extinct three hundred years ago?"

"Yeah---in Mystic Forest, they say." Morgen was balancing on his toes now as he started on another pile of arrows. "Didn't kill it, either. Still out there somewhere."

"And when was I going to be informed of this?" Luna's voice had taken on a dangerous edge. "For the information of you, the armory staff, whoever it was that told you this, and the world in general, that's where we were going for our training lesson today!"

"I thought you knew." Morgen was truly concerned, and showed it by his startled posture and shocked facial expression, probably more expression than was needed for the situation. "I heard it from Fringe---he said that Dysdane told him. She was out with the party that got attacked by it."

"They were attacked by it?" Luna waved a hand distractedly at the students gathered behind her, telling them to sit down. She needed to hear more. "It deliberately charged them?"

Morgen shrugged and went back to sorting arrows. "That's all I was told. You'll have to ask Fringe or Dysdane for more."

"Ask me for more what?" The feminine voice was cool and sharp. The figure that stalked through the doorway was no more friendly. "You're talking about me?"

"Here she is!" Morgen's expression changed to joyous welcoming, his mood shifting as quickly and sharply as his face. "Dys, Luna wants to know about the golem attack."

"Oh, that." The scorn was clear in her voice---but then, it wasn't often that it wasn't. Dysdane lived up to her name. "We were attacked by a golem while out on a training mission. What more do you want?"

Luna was not turned away by the maren's scornful attitude; Dysdane couldn't help it. She had been created entirely out of the emotion of disdain, and her personality was very closely modeled around it. "Give me a bit more detail. What happened in a nutshell?"

"We were attacked by a golem," repeated Dysdane, with an expression that said You Are Stupid. Luna ignored this.

"More detail than that."

Dysdane sighed and leaned against the door post, thin arms folded across her chest. "We went out for a training mission. Four of us. Near the north side of Mystic Forest, we were practicing stalking when a full-grown golem charged out of the brush and went for Hadrian. He went down, but before the golem could wound him again it was knocked off by Terrance. Tessa followed his attack with a slash of her sword, and the golem dashed off into the underbrush. We decided to head back, and that was it."

"How bad was Hadrian hurt?" asked Morgen.

"His shoulder was cut, but not badly. He's healing quite well." She shot a look at Luna. "Is that it?"

"Yes, thank you," murmured Luna absentmindedly.

Dysdane snorted delicately and moved through the crowd of students, picked up a fencing sword, and went out. Morgen laughed. "Talkative, isn't she?"

Luna ignored his jest. "I can't believe this---golems have been extinct for nearly three hundred years, Morgen. Why wasn't it sighted earlier? And why, for the love of dreams, didn't those four air-heads tell anyone about it?"

Morgen's expression changed to worry. "I don't know."

Luna sighed, turning to face the students around her. "Bit of a break, kids. Go back to your barracks and wait there until your next class---sparring sessions are canceled until I have more information. I have some people to talk to before we start another training session."

There was a muted cheer from the sitting maren as they all stood and hurried out. One remained behind.

"Miss Luna?" Aster looked up at her teacher worriedly. "Is everything going to be okay?"

Luna didn't answer right away. "Yes, Aster, everything will be fine," she said finally. "Why don't you go back to the barracks."

"Okay." Aster turned away, then looked back. "What about my pike?"

"Lance. I'll let you use mine when we go on our training run."

"Really?" Aster's eyes lit with excitement. "I get to use yours?"

"Sure. Now run along."

"Yes ma'am!" Aster saluted sharply and dashed off, her features glowing with excitement and pride. She got to use Miss Luna's pike! For the entire training session! _Miss Luna's pike!_

Luna smiled as she watched the young nightmaren run off full of excitement; then she turned back to Morgen, and her face became grave. "Morgen, where's Reala? I need to speak to him."

"Reala?" Morgen stopped his work for a moment to think. "Actually, I don't know. Last I heard he was going to meet Lord Wizeman for a meeting of some kind---but that was last night. Think Jackle went with him, too. Come to think of it, I haven't seen either of them…"

"I'll go upstairs and ask around, then." Luna stood and placed her lance against the wall, the long weapon resting in it's spot alongside the other instructors' weapons. "But first I'm going after those siblings. They're both level-headed enough, so why didn't they tell anybody?…See you, Morgen."

"Cheerio!" Morgen gave her an elegant bow, then went back to his sorting. As she went out, she could hear him begin to sing again. "Fair and sunny weather, bees sing together---In the woods laughter and in the air song. Brooks are talking faster, for Spring is now Master; his realm shall be unbordered and his reign long!"

NiGHTS paced his room worriedly. Reala had been gone for the entire night, and he still hadn't returned; his whereabouts were unknown. NiGHTS was beginning to get a bit worried.

Jackle was missing as well, but NiGHTS wasn't half as concerned about him. The demi-maren was known for skipping off into the wilderness without warning, coming back home at the oddest times. He got reprimanded for it often, but just couldn't seem to stay indoors. 

Reala, however, had a very good record for being where he was supposed to be. His disappearance was very disconcerting, especially with the rumors of a golem in Mystic Forest…

_'Cut that out,'_ NiGHTS ordered himself, still pacing. _'Reala's big enough to take care of himself. A golem couldn't take him down.'_

"Then where is he?" he muttered out loud. "Reals, you should be back by now! Where are you?"

The silent room only echoed the sound of his repeating footsteps.

On the wall top, Hist looked up at the early morning sky thoughtfully. Cloudy. He frowned at the sky, not liking what he saw. _'The winds are too violent for this time of the season.'_

They weren't the only thing that was out of place. For weeks nature had been acting strangely; the crows that traditionally nested in Stick Canyon had abandoned it for the shades of Mystic Forest, the winds had changed drastically, the Windingwater had overflown it's banks far too early in the season. Even now the clouds were gathering about Nightmare Castle, focusing on it as if it were the center of some impending storm. Looking up he could just barely make out the farthest clouds actually circling about the Clock Tower, a ruin standing on the edges of Mystic Forest, the highest building of Nightmare. This was strange.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The winds, busy with their moaning through the courtyard, did not answer.

In Wizeman's chamber, two nightmaren stood. 

One was Reala, the Seeker General. He was staring at his reflection in Wizeman's palm, eyeing himself with a shrinking amount of surprise and a growing amount of pride. He was frightening, cold, impassive. Powerful. His muscles---he flexed his arm---rippled with strength. Perfect.

The other was Jackle. The demi-maren was also staring at his reflection, although he was a bit more open about his wonder; he turned, watching his face, flashing grins to see the small, dainty fangs glimmer in the low light, flexing his hands to inspect the sharp claws. He was strange and frightening, almost grotesque. Bright and dark, here and gone, shadow and light; a psychotic smile with fangs and claws. He grinned, watching the small canines glimmer brightly. Perfect?

Wizeman's satisfied voice came down from above them as they examined themselves. "Are you happy with your improvements?"

"Yes, Lord Wizeman." Reala bowed. "They are stunning, a true testimony of your power."

Jackle winced, trying not to giggle. Reala sounded terribly full of himself. "Yes m'lord," he echoed, bowing as well. "Thank you."

Wizeman nodded, accepting their humble thanks, and then pulled away his hands. He gestured to the door. "Go and present yourselves to the rest of the leaders."

Reala nodded and bowed again; then turned sharply on his heel and strode out, head held high and expression set. Jackle bobbed his head as well and followed, bounding along in that peculiar hop-skip-float gait he sometimes used. Wizeman watched them exit, thoughtful.

_'Reala's personality has improved greatly,'_ he mused. _'But Jackle is still unsure. It may take more than I expected for him to cultivate a sense of self-confidence.'_

Perhaps it would.


	2. The Thousandth Man

~AN~ Whoa---now _that_ was quick response. Here's the second chapter, as promised---is seven pages long enough?

And yes, I do like focusing on Jackle's instability. Be warned. ^_^

Disclaimer: "I hate Telletubbies. That's all there is to it." ---AC

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

Or rats' feet over broken glass

In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without color,

Paralyzed force, gesture without motion…

The Hollow Men, by T. S. Eliot

__

Chapter Two:

The Thousandth Man

Hadrian glanced up as Luna stomped into the teachers' lounge, looking like she was out for blood. _'I wonder what has her in such a huff.'_

The sparring instructor looked around. "Where's Terrance and Tessa?"

Hadrian, being the only one there, gestured over his shoulder with a toss of his head. "They went to the kitchens. Both of them."

"Of course," muttered Luna. Terrance and Tessa were a brother and sister who never parted if they could help it. They wouldn't have gone for lunch alone.

She looked at the other maren accusingly. "You were attacked by a golem and _you never told anybody_?"

Hadrian returned her gaze calmly, his focused eye squarely on her face, his unfocused one looking ahead dully. His lopsided stare was a mistake made while he was created, often blamed on the fact that he was created out of a single emotion. All maren who had been made out of one type of energy alone seemed to have a flaw or two.

He spoke quietly, showing his unruffled nature. "Yes."

Luna sighed and folded her arms. "Why?"

"There was no need."

"No need?" Her tone took on a cutting edge. "I often run training sessions with a large group of beginners in Mystic Forest, and you felt there was no need to tell me a golem, and one that has attacked maren for no reason, was sighted there?"

"Exactly." Hadrian looked back down at the book he'd been studying.

Luna let a frustrated breath out through her lips, blowing her tangled hair out of her face and showing her disgust in the same movement. "Listen. If anything like this ever happens again, I will be angry. Very angry. And I will try to kill you. Tell me about these things, okay?"

"Very well." Hadrian did not look up from his book.

Luna groaned and leaned back, wondering what to do next. Her gaze fell on his shoulder, which was bandaged. "How's the wound?"

"Healing. It will be better within a day or two, I am told."

Luna nodded and got up, heading for the Great Hall, intending to speak with Terrance and Tessa. "Hope you feel better soon," she tossed over her shoulder as she went out.

Hadrian felt no need to reply. Being made solely out of the feeling of self-assurance, he was a very solid, taciturn, and calm person. Why bother replying?

Clawz was muttering to himself as he stalked down the hallway, growling about, as usual, a certain demi-maren. This time the crime was tardiness.

"That air-head's been gone for an entire day now!" he snarled. "He probably forgot all about our scouting mission yesterday, the idiot…"

"He may have some larger appointment to keep," murmured a voice. 

Clawz shot a glare at the figure reclining against the doorway, hands locked behind her back in a posture of meekness, eyes looking into the High Seeker's without a trace of fear. RagDoll.

RagDoll was queer. Not odd or different, like Insomnia or Morgen, but queer. Grotesque, almost. She wore striped pants topped with a white shirt and black vest, and her face was also white. Black marking were scattered across it, reminding one of the stitches on a child's doll, and two white X's were imprinted over her eyes. Her hair reached down to her knees. She walked with an unmistakable gait, swaying and staggering as if every joint in her body were loose; her eyes rolled about almost constantly, as if she were searching for something.

Now those eyes, ones that did not reflect any light, fixed on the catmaren's face for a moment before roaming across the room. Her attention was still focused upon him, however. "He may have had something else to do."

"I doubt it," muttered Clawz, moving away as he did so. He didn't like to admit it, but RagDoll gave him goosebumps. 

"You have reason to doubt me," observed RagDoll in her odd monotone, eyes now running up to inspect the ceiling before going back to circling the room. Her head rolled sideways to follow the catmaren.

"Not really." 

"And yet you say he did not have another appointment," she pointed out as she began to scan the floor, eyes rolling down in her head until they nearly disappeared.

"Perhaps he did," conceded Clawz, giving himself enough time to get out of the room without her replying. As he went down the hall, he could feel the hairs on his neck pricking straight up.

Reala strode down the hall, smirking slightly as maren scattered trying to get out of his way, faces glancing at him in wonder and fear before turning away hurriedly to disappear into the crowd. Now he held their respect fully. There would be no more fooling around.

Eyes lingered longer on Jackle. The demi-maren hung his head slightly, praying that no one would remark out loud. He didn't want to hear it.

_Why not?_

He jumped as another consciousness entered his mind without warning. _'I wish you wouldn't do that!'_ he replied, annoyed.

_Forgive us._

'It's alright.' He looked to the side as one young maren stared at his face. _'But what did you mean, why not?'_

Why are you afraid of people seeing your face?

'Are you blind or something? I look hideous.'

_Really? _The voices showed surprise. _Whatever happened to "It's perfect"?_

_'That was before every maren and his brother started staring at me.'_

_They're admiring you._

_'Oh yeah, right. I'm sure.'_ He shot a sarcastic glance at a young boy, who gave a startled "Eep!" and dove into the crowd. _'Yes, I'm SURE they're admiring me.'_

_We didn't mean admire as in love, Jackle. We meant respect and fear._

_'Well what if I don't want their respect and fear?' _retorted Jackle.

_Whyever would you not?_

_'Because…' _He faltered. _'Because…'_

_Because?_

_'I don't know,'_ he admitted. _'But I don't want it!'_ he added defiantly. 

__

Very well. The voices sounded amused as they left. _Trust us, you will soon._

'What do you mean?' he asked. But they were already gone.

He sighed and pulled his cloak tighter about himself. He was beginning to feel lost, somehow.

Terrance stood on tip-toe, straining to see over the crowd. "There's something going on!"

"I can see that," replied his sister dryly. She watched the gathered maren calmly; this amount of maren was normal. Breakfast was over and training was beginning, and for the next fifteen minutes or so the halls would be crowded. She looked at her brother, cocking a thin eyebrow. "Why don't you levitate?"

"Oh yeah!" Terrance sprang up, floating a good five feet off the floor. "Hey, now I can see!"

"Yes, you can see," Tessa murmured sarcastically. "Terrance, if it weren't for me, you would be dead by now. From stupidity."

"It looks like a parade or something," reported Terrance, completely ignoring her insult. "Gee, wonder why no one else thought to fly…"

"Because they're morons?" suggested Tessa, looking up at her brother impatiently. "Like you? Come on, Terrance. I'm hungry."

"Not yet!" Terrance strained forward. "Looks like…hey, that looks like Reala and Jackle!"

Tessa's eyes were touched with a faint light of interest. "Finally. What are they doing?"

"Just walking along---but everyone's staring at them like they're aliens!"

"No wonder. They've been missing all night."

"No, I don't think that's it. People are acting like there's something wrong with them….dude!"

Tessa looked up in spite of herself. "What?"

"Jackle's face---it's like, not there!"

"Jackle's face isn't there?' repeated Tessa. "What do you mean, it's not there?"

"It's not there!"

"It was ripped off?" Tessa looked vaguely startled. Who would attack a High Seeker?

"No, it's like his whole head just isn't there!"

This was enough to merit her full attention. She shot up, leveling out gracefully beside her brother to stare at the two leaders. "…shards," was her decision. "What's happened to his face?"

"I don't know! It's just not there! You can see his eyes and mouth, but the rest is just gone!"

"Odd," she commented, and looked at Reala, almost expecting the Seeker General to be without a face as well. He wasn't, but the one he had certainly looked different. "Reala's changed as well," she pointed out.

"Yeah. He looks like a rabid clown."

"Really?" She pondered their object of attention for a moment, coming to a swift conclusion. "You're right."

"But Jackle's just plain freaky," decided Terrance, looking back to the demi-maren. "It's gonna take me some time to get used to that, I can tell you."

"For once I agree with you," replied Tessa, and went back down to the floor. Terrance looked down at her.

"Hey, where are you going? We haven't found out what happened yet!"

"Yes, but Reala and Jackle obviously aren't sharing," she replied calmly, heading for the door. "We'll hear it through the grapevine soon enough. Now come on. I'm hungry."

Shooting once last longing glance at the centers of attention, Terrance followed her.

Jackle muttered something to himself in relief as the two finally made it through the crowd and into the sanctuary of the Great Hall. Of course, there the attention was going to be a lot more personal.

"For the love of dreams, what happened to you?!" gasped Puffy.

Jackle groaned under his breath and plopped down in front of the fire. "Don't ask."

"We've been perfected," replied Reala proudly, standing tall in the doorway. "Wizeman has made us more fitting for our places as nightmaren leaders."

"Oh," managed Puffy in a small voice. Jackle could feel her eyes on his back. She stared, and he knew she was dying to see his face again. For a moment the only sound in the room was the faint crackling of the fire.

"Will you stop that?" he snapped, finally tiring of her gaze.

Puffy jumped. "Yes," she squeaked, before blushing and hiding behind her book.

Reala stalked over to the fire to stand before it, subconsciously shielding Jackle from the maren's eyes. "Where is my brother?"

"NiGHTS?" murmured Puffy, asking the obvious in her momentary state of loss.

"Yes, NiGHTS," retorted Reala. "Who did you think I meant, my brother Mortimer?"

Puffy was shoved into even further heights of shock by the fact that the Seeker General was actually displaying a sense of humor. That certainly wasn't normal. "I--I think he's in his room."

Reala nodded once and turned to head for the door. Some small part of his mind felt uncomfortable about leaving Jackle to Puffy's scrutiny, but it was too miniscule a feeling for him to be aware of more than a faint twinge. For an unknown reason he looked back, glancing at the demi-maren huddled before the fire, cloak held against him with a desperate grip. He looked almost frightened…

Turning, Reala went out.

NiGHTS didn't hear the commotion one floor down; the walls of Nightmare Castle were thick enough to keep any noise within the room it originated from. He was completely unprepared for the powerful knock that resounded through his bedroom. He knew who it was; his brother had a particular way of knocking. One two, hard. It was a habit the maren probably didn't even know he had.

However NiGHTS wasn't busying himself with pondering upon knocking habits; he was overjoyed to know that his brother was here. He hurried to the door, opening it quickly. "Reala!"

Reala gazed back at him, piercing blue eyes reflecting brightly in the light from NiGHTS' window and standing out against the darkness of the hallway beyond. He said nothing.

NiGHTS halted, for once unable to say anything. His brother was different.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as both studied the other; NiGHTS taking in his brother's changed form, and Reala watching for his brother's reaction.Finally NiGHTS smiled. "My, have you been working out!"

The uncomfortable silence was broken. Reala, however, continued searching NiGHTS' eyes as he spoke. "You could say that."

"Well, don't just stand there, come on in!" NiGHTS stepped back, holding the door wide. "I've been waiting all night for you, Reala! That was mean to pop out like that without warning me…"

"I didn't expect it," snapped Reala, as he moved to the nearest chair and made himself comfortable. 

NiGHTS was a bit startled by his brother's show of temper, but kept this thought to himself. Plopping down carelessly on the floor, he rolled onto his belly and gazed up at Reala with the look of a child waiting to hear a story, legs kicked up lazily in the air. "So where were you? Spill already!"

"I was in Wizeman's chamber."

This brought an edge of seriousness to NiGHTS' face. He hurried to mask it. "Why?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Reala gestured at his body. "He was perfecting me."

NiGHTS was silent for a moment. 

"Perfecting you?"

"That's what I said," replied Reala with a hint of annoyance. "What, you don't think I've been perfected?"

"Not really, no," murmured NiGHTS.

His brother did not answer, searching his violet eyes for a sign that he was joking. There was none there.

"What do you mean?"

"I liked you just the way you were, Reals. There was no need to try to make you better."

"NiGHTS, don't you get it?" Reala was defending himself now. "Now I truly look like a leader of the Nightmare forces!"

"You look like a demented walrus," replied NiGHTS. The joke was not meant to amuse.

"What?"

"Reala, you looked just fine the way you were before. There wasn't any reason for you to be changed."

"So say you." Reala gave his brother a look that was uncomfortably close to a sneer. "You never could appreciate the importance of appearances, NiGHTS."

"Maybe so, but then I was never called a demented walrus, either!" retorted NiGHTS.

"Oh? I suppose you only got the name 'Pansy' or 'Violet' instead?" returned Reala angrily.

"I---" NiGHTS stopped, unsure of what was happening. Was he actually arguing with Reala? "Reals, I didn't mean that to---"

"Don't call me that."

"Call you what?" 

"Reals. Don't call me that."

"Don't call you Reals?" NiGHTS blinked, confused. "Reala, I've always called you that!"

"Well you won't now!" It was more of a command than a request. "I'm the leader of the nightmaren army, and you'll give me the respect I deserve!"

"Says who?"

"Me!" Reala was nearly shouting now.

"Well I---" NiGHTS cut himself off, staring at his brother in dismay. They were yelling at each other.

Reala took a breath, expression showing his struggle to control himself. He had never yelled at his brother like this before---never felt such anger. It was all wrong.

Reala did not like being wrong. 

NiGHTS spoke before he could. "Reala, I'm sorry."

"I---" Reala gazed at him, mind running over their conversation; then he got up, moving to the door. "I'm not."

NiGHTS rolled over, staggering up onto his feet in frightened hurry. He was just in time to see his brother slam the door behind him.

NIGHTS sank back onto his knees, staring at the ground. What had he just done? He'd gone and yelled at Reala like they were enemies. What was wrong with them?

For some inexplicable reason, he felt as if his brother was gradually, slowly slipping away from him.


	3. The Dream Is Deferred

__

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore---

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over---

Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

Like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Harlem (2), by Langston Hughes

__

Chapter Three:

The Dream Is Deferred

Jackle stared into the flames, watching them flicker sporadically like broken wisps of veil caught up in wind. The glow reflected on his eyes, bringing out the delicate pieces of gold scattered in the green irises, striking jewels of emerald that shone expressively.

However Puffy wasn't pondering his eyes; she couldn't even see them, his back turned to her as it was. She was thinking about a more recent look he'd acquired. 

He waited for her to ask, but apparently Reala had scared her into silence. The moments passed without a word between them. He began tapping his fingers. 

The door creaked open, and the low, sleek form of Clawz came through. The catmaren directed his words at Puffy; Jackle, crouched low near the wall, was not immediately noticeable in the rather dim light. 

"You spend too much time in here," Clawz commented, jumping on to his favorite chair. "You've been---"

He cut off when he spotted Jackle. "Jackle! Where on earth have you---"

He cut off again. In the flickering light, it looked almost as if Jackle didn't have a head.

There was a moment of silence; then Jackle spoke. His voice was low. "I was with Lord Wizeman."

Clawz felt his fur lay back flat the way it should. "My, you gave me a fright for a second. You just looked awful queer sitting there…"

He trailed off as Jackle turned to face him, eyes glinting with an angry light. "Did I?"

Clawz stared. The picture was grotesque, the floating eyes and mouth lighted by the leaping flames behind and framed with a fire-orange cloak. Jackle's pale face and messy golden locks were gone.

"What happened to you?" hissed Clawz.

Jackle blinked slowly as if he were trying to comprehend the question; for a moment his eyes seemed to almost disappear. "Lord Wizeman thought I needed…some improvements…"

Clawz's eyes narrowed, his bearing returning now he was sure Jackle was still in one piece. "You look like a freak."

Puffy started, and Jackle did as well. His eyes opened wide to stare at the catmaren, anger now replaced by a look of hurt. He did not reply.

Clawz shook his head. "You're going to take a lot of getting used to, Jackle." And with that he began grooming himself, drawing his gleaming claws through shining fur.

Jackle remained silent, his gaze returning to the fire before him, eyes slit with controlled emotion. _'I hate you, Clawz.'_

Luna sighed, leaning against the chair back and closing her eyes. A cup of tea, untouched, was in her hand. She was too high-strung at the moment to enjoy tea; her search for Reala had only resulted in shrugs and comments of 'Reala? Haven't seen 'im,' and 'I saw him go that way. That was last night, though.'

Tessa was holding a cup of tea as well; hers was, however, visibly depleted. She was not as flustered. "So what do you think should be done?"

"Reala should be told, first off," replied Luna, eyes still closed. "If he can be found. I can't believe that hasn't been done already."

"Like I said, we were busy," replied Terrance from his perch on the couch. 

Beside him, Tessa nodded. "Reala couldn't be found, there was another training mission we both had to oversee, Hadrian was in the Infirmary, and Dysdane---do you really expect her to have told anybody?"

"Still." Luna opened her eyes long enough to take a sip of her tea. "This is a golem we're talking about. Why none of the higher people seem to know about it, I've no clue."

"I do."

A slim-built maren placed his mug on the table before speaking. He was extremely strange in appearance; his body seemed to be all one piece of pale clay, and his head was shaped into a three-pointed floppy that was actually part of his skin. This was Apathy, another maren who had, like Dysdane and Hadrian, been made out of a single negative emotion. Apathy was aptly named; he didn't care about the fact that he was barely finished.

She rolled her head to the side to gaze at him. "You do? Tell me."

Apathy, known as Path, returned her gaze meekly, white, blank eyes without pupil or iris meeting hers. "There's a growing gap between the maren in leadership positions and those below them. I think that any news spread among the masses takes longer and longer to reach the leaders these days."

"I see." Luna's eyes closed again, a sign that she was thinking. "I've noticed that myself. It's as if the nightmaren without any ruling power are becoming more independent. That's good. We need strong fighters, not following sheep."

"So you say," replied Tessa quietly. "But too much independence could lead to trouble."

"I don't think so." Luna opened her eyes and casually began drinking her tea in earnest. "They're a good-hearted bunch, mostly."

Tessa looked down at her own tea, watching the steam rise. "That's what I'm afraid of."

__

'I just yelled at my brother.

'He was being obnoxious.

'But I've never actually yelled at him!

'Yes, I have.

'But I never meant it.

'So I was being insincere? Fake?

'What am I talking about? I was just letting him know how I felt!

'Why am I so confused?

'He should have accepted me---I've been perfected! He was just being petty…

'Maybe he was jealous.

'He was just jealous of my power.

'No, NiGHTS would never be jealous of my power. He's not that way.

'But then why were he and I arguing?

'I am the general of the nightmaren army now---I have no time for such petty arguments. I need to concentrate on my duty…

'What is my duty?

'I need to go find out.'

Reala turned from the silent contemplation of his reflection and left his room, feeling a bit more content now that he knew what to do. He never considered that perhaps his going to Wizeman was, in a way, only a diversion to help him settle his wounded feelings and confusion. A quick fix.

Quick fixes never work for good.

Gillwing was out looking for Jackle. The demi-maren had been gone the entire night, and he could not wait any longer. His friend was missing, so he was looking for him.

The dragon-like maren flew low over Mystic Forest, wings pumping up and down in heavy, full strokes. The tree limbs beneath him bent down as he passed, blown back by the wind he created while flying; leaves glimmered lighter and darker greens in the sun.

He snorted worriedly. He'd been searching since early morning, and he hadn't found anything. Where was Jackle?

He needed to eat, and yet he didn't want to stop searching. Eventually the pain in his stomach convinced him to turn towards Nightmare Castle, but his eyes still scanned the ground below him carefully, always watching for a bright flame of color. He never guessed that the object of his search was currently in the Great Hall staring moodily at the fireplace. And that object was just pondering his state of being lost, even though he had no clue that he was being searched for. He knew exactly where he was. He was still lost.

A person doesn't have to be in a strange place to be lost; the mind is enough of a wilderness to lose yourself in.


	4. It Begins To Show

~AN~ In a recent review, Fang Lirui did say, and I do quote: "I miss your rantings at the beginning! *sniffle*." And now I do say unto you: BWAHAHAHAHAAA!! I've been waiting for a chance like this! Now I have an excuse to rant pointlessly again!!

*ahem* I really do enjoy ranting, you know. I'm a hopeless chatterbox. Recently I've been thinking about explaining a bit along the whole 'Nightmaren Theory' thread, and this gives me an excuse. Don't worry, it won't be long---just a tidbit at the beginning of a few chapters. 

Collective Audience: *sigh of relief* 

Ahem…yes. So let's see how it goes. And now…I present to you…

NIGHTMAREN THEORY,

__

Or

The Insane Rookie's Guide To Her Literary World

Oh boy---Nightmaren Theory. I do believe those two words have probably been the main reason for almost any argument ever defended among the NiGHTS fandom. And here be I, the girl who can't stand conflict, addressing it! Pat me on the back.

You see, there are approximately two holjillion different ways of viewing the Dream World and all connected to it; some nightmaren have hair, some don't, some have gender, some don't, some need to eat, some don't, some feel like a nut, some don't. Therefore to make things a bit easier to understand, and to avoid those really long rogue explanatory passages that tend to break into my writing and terrorize innocent readers without warning, I've created this section which you are now staring at in dread. Here you'll find the basic traveler's guide to Avis' Universe, also known as Insanity With Nicely-Written Packaging.

Please, _please_ take note that this is only a guide for how things are in my stories, so people jumping in the middle won't be wondering 'do these nightmaren have hair', etc. I do not claim for this to be 'canon', 'correct', or any of those strange words that I do not seem to know the meaning of; these explanations and elaborations came to be because that's just how things fell in the story, so I guess I'd better follow my own lines. I started out writing with pretty much no clue what was what, and I still write like that, in a way. I like going off on my own little side trails…despite the fact that I often get lost as a result and then have to explain my way out of the woods again.

Therefore…I present to you…three more dots…and…

Nightmaren Theory Num. 1: The Gender Issue

In my universe, all nightmaren have gender. However, unlike many of the universes created by other Genderites, reproduction is _not_ the main source of growing numbers. Rather, Wizeman creates each maren himself; he might make a batch all at once, but he created them. The only explanation for this slightly odd behavior on his part that I could come up with was: "Well, he's got to get bored just sitting in that big ol' room of his! His creations are his amusement!" Or perhaps he's just a fashion designer and likes designing their outfits, I don't know. 

A side effect of the decision that maren don't reproduce often was a welcome one: namely, because of reproduction itself being mostly unheard of, nightmaren love is a very Platonic thing. The personality and being are what a maren will fall in love with; a maren can be a cruel lover, but lust is, thankfully, an unused emotion. Good riddance, in my opinion.

…gee, I just managed to break both of my resolutions for this story---I ranted for an inane amount of time, and I put up a chapter before I got two reviews. Go me.

Okay, I'm done ranting. For now.

AC: Cue Evil Overlord laugh that echoes into the background.

Disclaimer: "If there's one thing I hate, it's when Avis rants."---Bass

__

This chapter is most humbly dedicated to Fang Lirui and Nix Entente, two reasons that I keep on writing. Some of the best reviewers there are, I can always count on them to write an amusing, helpful, honest, and encouraging review. I hope you two enjoy this chapter, and the many more that are to follow. *evil author's grin* Enjoy the show.

_You have spoken the answer._

A child searches far sometimes

Into the red dust

On a dark rose leaf

And so you have gone far

For the answer is:

Silence.

The Answer, by Carl Sandburg

Chapter Four:

It Begins To Show

Reala knocked at the great metal doors, the sound echoing dully down the hallway. A voice that echoed with power answered. "Enter."

He obeyed, striding up to the throne of his creator and kneeling respectfully. "Lord Wizeman."

Wizeman bent slightly to face him, all six eyes on the Seeker General. "Why have you come so soon, Reala?"

"I wish to know what you would have me do concerning the mission to conquer the Waking World," replied Reala, facing the floor to show his respect.

"Wizeman's eyes lit with a surprised satisfaction. Reala had shaped up even quicker than he'd expected. "Begin sorting the forces. They must all have an official profession; the younger maren must know what they are. There must be no indefinite or uncertain duties. Is that understood?"

"Yes, master."

"Very well. Now go and do your duty."

Reala stood, bowing before he turned and marched out, footsteps ringing proudly on the shir-coated floor. Behind him, Wizeman smiled. Things were going wonderfully with Reala. Now to see to his brother…

Luna sat down at the nearest table, thanking Corbeau as the scout passed her some stew. She began eating, but she had more than refreshment in mind for the lunch hour.

"Anyone know anything about golems?" she addressed to the table in general.

Corbeau eyed her. "Why?"

"Just wondering if anyone knew anything about golems. Golems in the near vicinity, in particular."

One of the scouts in training, who happened to be sitting across from her, blinked. "Golems in the near vicinity? As in, golems around here?"

"That's right, Aniline." Luna stopped eating to scan the table. "Well, anyone know anything?"

"I do," offered Corbeau when no other help was forthcoming. The sparring instructor eyed him expectantly, and he smiled. "Well, not much. But I do know that one was supposedly sighted in Mystic Forest."

"There's no supposedly about it," said Dysdane, seating herself next to Luna. She ignored the food offered to her and began serving herself.

Corbeau cocked his head slightly. "Oh, so you know about this mysterious creature? May I ask what, exactly, you know?"

"I know that it attacked Hadrian," replied Dysdane, not taking her focus off her food. "And I know that I was there when it happened. Is that good enough for you?"

There was some low murmuring among the gathered maren. Corbeau smiled. "Yes, I believe that certainly qualifies you for the title of 'Golem Expert'."

Dysdane snorted in his general direction and continued eating. Luna looked around the table once more. Anyone else know something?"

Various maren offered bits of knowledge or rumor, and all of it was discussed and then either kept as important or discarded. Lunch wasn't just about eating at Nightmare Castle; it was time for the daily forum.

"What bothers me," announced Luna, sipping from a cup of tea now that she was finished with her stew, is that this one actually attacked the group for no reason, and then ran off at the slightest show of violence. That isn't right. Golems don't act that way---they refuse to fight until the circumstances won't allow it any other way, and then they go all out and refuse to budge. This one was different."

"All I know is that it was a golem, and it attacked us," said Dysdane, standing as she spoke.

"Leaving already?" questioned Corbeau.

Her reply was cold. "I'm finished, scout."

Corbeau's bright brown eyes twinkled, and he rose to bow gracefully. "Farewell, then, until we meet again."

Dysdane snorted, the sound only slightly more gentle than it had been before, and turned to leave. She nearly bumped into Gillwing.

"Sorry," apologized Gillwing.

Dysdane refrained from answering, due to his rank; she certainly wasn't going to butter up to him, and answering rudely would be stupid. She merely nodded and tried once more to leave.

"Uh, have you seen Jackle?" asked Gillwing, making her halt once more. This time she actually made eye contact with him and spoke.

"No."

"I have." Corbeau stood to be at eye-level with the giant High Seeker. He was headed down the stairs with Reala, last I saw him---he went towards the Great Hall, I think. That was just this morning."

"He's back!" Gillwing smiled. "Thanks."

Corbeau smiled as well as the dragon-looking creature ambled off. It was hard to believe this slow, kindly beast was a leader of the nightmaren army.

Luna stood up, returning back to the original point of conversation as she did. "As to the golem---I have to speak to Reala about this. I still can't believe he wasn't informed…"

"You hadn't informed him yet," reminded Corbeau.

"That's because I didn't know he was back until you mentioned him. What's absurd is the fact that this happened days ago, and no one knew."

"The leaders don't have as great a relationship with us lower life forms as they used to," replied a nightmaren wearing sage green. "Ever since Wizeman announced we'd be going after the Waking World, they've been so hard on us that we haven't really been interested in speaking to them unless we absolutely have to."

Luna halted long enough to throw him a glance. "I'm a leader, Lunatic."

Lunatic grinned. "Yeah, but you were always tough. We didn't notice any difference with you. See ya."

Jackle closed his eyes and saw spots dance across his vision for a moment, a result of watching the flames for so long. Clawz was still grooming himself and Puffy was still reading. Every now and then he would feel their eyes upon him, but he gave no sign of noticing. Perhaps if he just ignored them…

"You know, you look really strange sitting that way," commented Clawz. "But then, you would look strange sitting any way now…"

Drat.

He winced, not wanting to open his eyes; once more he felt the cold shiver of a stare on his back. Jackle had an uncanny ability to sense when he was being watched, and right now that sense was going into overdrive. They were both staring at him.

__

'Staring at me. Why won't they stop staring at me? Stupid maren, can't accept me---stop staring! I'm no different…well, so I am. Just because I'm really different doesn't mean you have to stare at me! Stop staring! STOPPIT! GO AWAY!!'

With a hoarse sob, he shoved himself to his feet and fled the room.

The other High Seekers jumped as the demi-maren slammed the door behind him. Puffy looked at Clawz, bewildered. "What was that all about?"

Clawz shrugged. "Don't look at me."

Puffy glanced back the way Jackle had left. "This may be just a stupid hunch, but I have the feeling Jackle doesn't like his 'improvements' very much."

Clawz shrugged again and settled further into his chair. "No wonder. Neither do I."

Jackle pounded up the stairs, shoving past a startled maid and several archers as he made his way up the spiral staircase. The flight of stairs was gigantic, running all the way from the lowest dungeon to the highest tower, and getting from one floor to the next was usually accomplished by following this flight of stairs. Jackle took them by habit, moving as fast as he could, partially flying, until he reached the third level.

He passed the Fire Hall and the Infirmary, skidding into the next room and coming to a complete and rather clumsy halt. No one was there.

He sighed in relied and collapsed into the nearest chair, head lolled back and eyes closed, his breath coming in heavy gasps from the sudden spurt of running. Slowly he felt himself relax; a physical reaction to the psychological connection of this room and safety.

This was the Library. Jackle spent much time here, wandering among the giant shelves and poring through the endless books. It was a massive collection, filled to the brim with scrolls, tomes, pamphlets and diaries, their subjects ranging from poetry to history to science to medicine. He loved it here.

The atmosphere was very nice: a small fireplace was always kept tended, surrounded by plush chairs for readers to take their ease; many more of these chairs were scattered throughout the halls of shelves, along with several tiny desks for maren to spread out their books and work in peace. Candles were in abundant supply, and writing utensils were also kept handy. Jackle's own small study within his bedroom had been modeled off the library.

Why it was kept so neat and well-stocked was, quite truthfully, somewhat indistinct; not many people came here for the actual books. However it was known for being a place to relax, and therefore the more mild-mannered nightmaren found it to be a sanctuary from the rowdiness of the barracks and the loud gatherings in the Fire Hall. It was a place of peace.

Jackle sighed, feeling the adrenaline pumping through his body slowly begin to decrease; silently, he pondered his recent flight. _'What did I do that for?'_

_What did you do that for?_

He jumped, falling back into the chair with a quiet "oof". _'Don't DO that!' _he begged.

_Sorry._

_'You really need to work on your entrances,'_ he murmured mentally, settling himself down once more. _'That scared the living bajeebers out of me. And I was already in a jumpy mood.'_

_We're very sorry. But why are you so upset?_

_'Clawz. He's being a jerk.'_

_Yes, we noticed that. But there's no reason for you to become so annoyed with someone below you._

_'Below me? Wait up, what do you mean below me?'_

_You're far more like NiGHTS and Reala than he is. And now that you've been perfected, isn't it obvious you're above him?_

'I don't know. We're on the same level, really.'

You certainly need to help yourself out of this net you've become entangled in, said the voices smilingly. _Thank goodness we came along._

_'Net I've become entangled in?' _repeated Jackle, blinking as a young girl came out from the isles of books. She jumped when she saw him, and promptly hurried to the door, trying not to appear afraid. He watched her go, uninterested. Perhaps he could get used to peoples' reactions. _'What do you mean?'_

_You're been called unimportant or different so many times you've accepted the thought that you're not as good as the others, when in reality you're better. You're unique._

_'I see…I guess.'_

He stood. The voices gave a mental blink. _Where are you going?_

_'To the back room.'_

_Ah. _The nodded, or it felt like they nodded. _We will see you soon. And they were gone._

Jackle ignored their departure and began weaving through the shelves of books, his destination one that his pulse begin to beat faster again. He was heading for forbidden ground.

Behind the main library, in a smaller room, was what the younger generation half-joking, half-seriously called The Forbidden Library. It was Wizeman's own room of books, and he made it very clear that the place was not to be entered. Rumors as to what was actually in the room abounded; some said it was filled with treasure, some said the books inside were too precious to be imagined, some said monsters of incalculable strength were kept within, some said he just wanted a place to have some peace and quiet. (The last was Tessa's view.)

Jackle was the only one, to his knowledge, that had dared set foot in the forbidden territory. The temptation of secret books had proved too much, and so one night he slipped into the room, pulse racing and heart pounding. What he found amazed him.

The room, although it took up only a small portion of the castle, was gigantic once entered. The shelves were enormous, reaching up towards the ceiling until they faded into the shadows above. A giant desk stood in the center, a gargantuan candle placed upon it; the flame always burned as if kept alive by some magic spell. All in all it was an awe-inspiring place.

Jackle had, after getting over his shock, begun the quest of reading every book in the hidden library, starting from the bottom shelves and working his way up. It was a very risky game, as he never knew when Wizeman might enter and find him there, but one that he was willing to play. The books were filled with facts and tales about the Dream World and all within, and he learned more by reading these forbidden tomes than everything he'd ever learned from all other books combined. The risk was worth the gain.

Slowly the journeys into forbidden territory became more than risks; they became his sanctuary. Whenever he wanted to forget the world around him, he went to the hidden library and buried himself in the refreshing feeling of adrenaline singing along his veins and secret knowledge coming to light. This was his fix.

Right now he needed that fix, and he was going to get it. He was careful to walk the entire floor of the main library first, however, to make sure there were no more young girls hiding behind the shelves. If someone saw him go into the back room…

Shrugging off the unpleasant thought of what would happen were he discovered, Jackle finished his route through the halls of shelves and came to the back wall, where a giant wooden door awaited him.

It opened silently, admitting him into a world of secret knowledge and shadowed space. He slipped through the giant shelves, going straight to a large, red leather-bound book with delicate gold tracing along its binding. This was a diary authored ages ago, when even he was still young and inexperience. It was written by one of the first nightmaren ever created, as far as he could tell, and it was filled with things that this nightmaren had learned.

Jackle pulled the book from its spot carefully, knowing that it was feeble with age; sitting down with his back against the shelf, he opened the diary.

Soon he was deep in a world of knowledge. He read quickly, some small part of his mind always remembering the threat of being found, but a far larger part focused firmly upon understanding and remembering what he read. After some time he came upon a strange entry.

__

I studied the Ideya Lore for a long time today. It is strange that Wizeman knows nothing about it…I must show it to him. Once I am done. He may take it away, seeing that it was written before even he was here, apparently…

That was all. For a moment Jackle pondered the strangely short inscription; the Ideya Lore? What was this?

He went on, now hoping to find some clue as to what the 'Ideya Lore' was. His patience was soon rewarded.

I am still unsure as to the authorship of the Lore, but I am very glad for whoever it was that wrote it. There is so much information about the Ideya within---and not only the Ideya, but all that is around us. I have learned so much just by reading it.

The next entry was, Jackle realized with surprise, the last. The rest of the book was empty. He began reading, interest sharpened into the need to know. The entry was long, but hurried, written in a slightly more wobbly hand as if the person writing was nervous.

__

Curse my thirst for knowledge. I longed for secrets, and secrets I found---more than anyone should ever know!

Today, as always, I read in the Lore. I found an entry upon the Courage Ideya, and how only two are available for gathering at one time, only once every century. I also found that a person could, with enough dream energy at their control, open a bridge to the Waking World. It can only be done once every hundred years, upon the night of the convergence. I was just finishing the page when Clawz entered the room.

He saw that I was reading something, and tried to take the Lore from me. I jerked it away, and then I, stupid as I am, let something slip about not letting Wizeman see it. Now Wizeman knows that I have been hiding something from him, and he is now deciding my fate. I am held prisoner here in my room until he has chosen it.

The Lore I have hidden, wedged between a crack in the wallstones with dirt sealing the opening. No one else must read it; it has brought about my own destruction, most likely, and would be a curse to anyone else who read within. I pray no one will ever find it.

Jackle closed the book slowly, leaning against the shelf to stare unseeing at the shadows that hid the ceiling. Only on the night of the convergence. Once every hundred years. They were searching for something that would not do anything for them, perhaps wouldn't even be there until the hundred years' convergence, whenever that was. Wizeman had to know!

He leapt up, beginning to put the book back in its spot---and stopped dead. If he told, it would become known that he had entered the forbidden room. He'd gone against Wizeman's order.

He knelt, staring blankly at the books lined in front of him. _'What do I do?'_

Run.

He started. _'Run? No, I can't! Wizeman must know---but then he'll find out about my trespassing here!'_

_Wizeman will not find out, _the voices insisted. _Just run. Leave. No one will ever know._

'But I---'

Run!

He ran.


	5. Though They Have Eyes

~AN~ *bows* Thanks for the pointers, Nix. I've read over this thing at least seventeen times, but as any author knows once you miss an error the first time or two it never pops out at you again…and my beta reader's currently too busy to read such a long story, so I'm afraid there's gonna be an error or three. I'm trying to catch them, but obviously one or two slip by anyway. Thanks for being so helpful!

Oh goody, now I get to do more ranting. I do love ranting, you know. ^_^

Nightmaren Theory Num. 2: _Dreams, Fears, And An Author's Tears---This Is What Nightmaren Are Made Of_

__

Since the beginning of time, before even Littlefoot was around, one question has burned in the heart of man: What are nightmaren made of?

In my stories the point hasn't actually come up yet, and therefore I don't have much on this topic yet. As I said before, I only formulate these "theories" as they fall on my head…but I've started addressing it right now, so I guess I'll come up with something, right? *nervous laugh* Eh heh heh.

…

*thinks*

…

*continues thinking*

…

…okay, I think I've got something here. So far my ideas are pretty much as follows.

Nightmaren are made out of negative energy: the emotions such as disdain, non-righteous anger, apathy, cruelty, etc. Ideya are positive energy; you know the five. Hope, Purity, Knowledge/Intelligence, Maturity, Courage. The Dream World itself, and all therein and attached to it, in my stories, is made out of a more neutral and stable kind of energy: I call it base energy.

Dreamers can alter their surroundings slightly. They can mold base energy to a certain extent, although not with any great amount of control; more often it is a subconscious memory or thought that shapes their powers, not they themselves.

Wizeman can mold negative energy on a much larger scale. The things he has made out of energy are negative-, not base-energy based, unlike the terrain and the buildings that were already there. (More on the 'already there' theory another time.)

Ergo Maren: negative energy. Ideya: positive energy. Dream World and filler: base energy.

Now I know that the first thing at least one person is going to say is "use the Force, Luke!!" But hear me out. When I talk about energy, I mean something rather like the energy in our world, become a sort of all-purpose self-powered building material. Think cells. 

Humor the insane girl and her absurd theories.

Disclaimer: "I am sooo glad that's over."---AC

__

About suffering they were never wrong,

The Old Masters: how well they understood

Its human position; how it takes place

While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along,

How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting

For the miraculous birth, there must always be

Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating

On a pond at the edge of the wood:

They never forgot

That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course

Anyhow in a corner…

Musee des Beaux Arts, by W. H. Auden

__

Chapter Five:

Though They Have Eyes

Gillwing entered the Great Hall, looking about hopefully before realizing that the object of his search wasn't there. He looked at Clawz and Puffy with a puzzled air. "Have you seen Jackle?"

"Just left," mumbled Clawz through a mouthful of hair. He'd found a tangle under his forepaw and was currently struggling to work through it.

Gillwing sighed and turned around, ready to comb the entire Dream World all over again if necessary to find his friend; Puffy stopped him. "You might want to leave him alone for a little bit."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Why?"

"He wasn't really feeling that well," she explained, not bothering to go into detail for the simple-minded nightmaren. "He might prefer being by himself for now."

"Oh. Okay." Gillwing settled himself down in front of the fire, curling up like some gigantic, monster dog. His shadow danced on the wall, a dark beast wavering there with skin of stones and eyes of flame. For some reason, looking at it, Clawz felt a shiver run down his spine. After a moment he managed to shrug the cold feeling off, and went back to detangling his fur.

Luna marched into the barracks, still the tangle-haired fury, now ticked over having gone on a wild goose chase for half the afternoon looking for Reala. Maren around her glanced up questioningly. 

She looked around. "Anyone seen Reala?"

"I have," replied a cold voice, somehow managing to be shiver-inducing despite the humor. The object of her search stepped into view. "You are looking for me?"

"Lord Reala." She bowed quickly. "There is a very urgent matter that must be brought to your attention…"

"What is it?" he asked, already turning away. "And make it quick," he added. "I was just starting something."

"A golem has been sighted in Mystic Forest."

"A golem?" He turned back to eye her. "When?"

"Several days ago."

"Several days ago," he repeated. "Why was I not informed of this before?"

"The ones that saw it apparently didn't share their experience until today," replied Luna. "I myself didn't hear about it until just an hour ago."

Reala blew out a quick breath, muttering something to himself as he did so, and turned away. "Very well. From now on I will be informed the minute something of this importance happens, understood?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Dismissed."

"Yes, my lord. Is there anything you wish me to do about this matter?…"

He waved her away. "No. Just have everyone keep their eyes open."

"Their eyes open?" Her expression was flustered. "But my lord, this is a golem…"

"I don't have the time for running down a sighting of a supposedly extinct animal," snapped Reala, half-turning to give her a chilling stare. "I am carrying out the desire of Lord Wizeman. I have no time for shadow chasing." 

He turned away. "You were leaving?"

Luna blinked, unsure. "Yes, I was, Lord Reala…"

She turned away, looking shell-shocked. A golem in the forest, and no one was going to do anything about it?

There was a chuckle to her left. A nightmaren wearing red and brown grinned at her, his crooked smile like a jack o' lantern's. "You look like you just swallowed a frog."

She snarled a "shuttup" at him as she passed, and stomped out of the barracks in high dudgeon. What was wrong with these people?

Reala muttered something to himself about baseless reports and unkillable rumors as he brought his attention back to his current duty. "Face me," he barked.

The young maren gathered about all turned their heads towards him on instinct, shooting each other questioning glances as they did so. He began to pace back and forth between the rows of beds.

"We are embarking on a mission to conquer the Waking World," he began. "And therefore we must be ordered and ready. Starting now, each maren will have one certain duty to perform. There will be no jacks of all trades. 

"You!" He pointed at a random nightmaren. The boy being singled out jumped. 

"Yes, sir?"

"What is your duty?"

"Uh…I, uh, fight, sir."

Reala sighed. This was going to be absolutely migraine-inducing. "But what is your duty?"

"Uh…" The boy glanced to one side as his neighbor whispered something in his ear. "To serve Lord Wizeman, sir!"

Reala's icy gaze focused on the one who had come up with the answer. "You. You say your duty is to serve Wizeman?"

The slightly more quick-thinking one, who just happened to be Luna's heckler, nodded. "Yes sir."

"How?"

"How what, sir?"

"How will you serve him?"

"By fighting for him, sir."

Reala closed his eyes for a moment, releasing the boy from a blue stare. _'Somehow, despite the fact that they know all the answers, we aren't getting anywhere…'_

"Very well. Can you give me a fairly accurate description of your profession?"

"Gathering Ideya, sir?"

"That was before. Now that we're taking over the Waking World, what is your profession?"

"I'm…a hand-to-hand fighter, sir."

"Bingo."

The boy found himself again the attention point for a startlingly blue gaze. Reala allowed a small smile to touch the edges of his jagged mouth. "That's what we're looking for."

He turned his head to include the rest of the room in his glance. "By the time we're through, every one of you will be able to say without a doubt what you are and what you do. This is our current goal. Is that clear?"

There was a round of "yes sir"s.

He smiled again as a rather childish notion entered his mind. "I can't hear you."

"Yes sir!"

"Louder."

"YES SIR!"

"Good!" He favored them with a proud smile. "Good. You're learning."

Nightmaren straightened as he began to evaluate them one by one. _'Now comes the hard part---figuring out what we need, and how much of it we need.' _

Turning sharply on his heel, he strode towards the door. "Tomorrow morning, bright and early, we will begin organizing into ranks. Be ready."

He listened to the murmuring that set about as he exited, with the sentences 'I don't think I'm gonna like this' and 'what did he mean' in large amount. Yes, it would be quite a chore to whip these young maren into shape. But he would do it, and he would do it well.

After all, it was his duty.

Clang, clang, clang.

Amaranth gripped the metal tongs tightly, muscles rippling along his powerful arms. With one skillful motion he flipped the steel blade clutched in the tongs' hard grasp, releasing it to grab it again with a more comfortable hold. Again his hammer rang against the metal. Clang, clang, clang.

Morgen's head peered around the blacksmith door, his fairy-like hair drifting about his face from the waves of heat, silver eyes glinting with all the brightness of a newly-polished dagger hanging on the wall. He whistled.

"Whew, this place is a scorcher, isn't it? How d'you guys stand it?"

Apathy, bent over the bellows, looked up long enough to answer. "It isn't that bad."

"So says Path, who would continue to say so should the sky fall on his head," laughed Morgen, cocking his head to look at the master blacksmith bent over his anvil. "But what about you, Amaranth?"

"Hold up, Morgen!" shouted Amaranth over the ringing of steel upon steel. "I'm almost finished with this one---and so help me, if you make me fumble with your talk I'll hit you instead of the blade!"

"Me? Purposely distract you from your work?" Morgen's voice was filled with innocent protest, as was his face. "Never in my darkest dreams did I desire to distract you from your duty! Hey, how many d's did I use in that sentence? Sounded like a lot."

Amaranth had to force himself to keep from laughing, and therefore possibly making a mistake. Morgen began counting out loud. "Let's see, darkest dreams---that's two---did I dare to desire---wait, did I say dare? No, I don't think I did---but it sounds good!---did I desire---that's four---to distract you from your duty. That's six."

"That's enough," retorted Amaranth, flipping the metal once more and setting to work on the other side again. "Now shut up until I'm through!"

"As you wish, O Most Muscular Master of the Blacksmithy!" Morgen bowed low, pulling his long blue cape about him to make the gesture more dramatic. Amaranth ignored him and concentrated on finishing the blade.

Clang, clang, clang. The metal was taking shape under his fingers; soft and hard components had been combined together, folded over and over to meld into one solid blade. The two never completely mixed, however, and this was what Amaranth wanted. He had only to wait for the right texture.

Clang, clang---clang.

The last was the sound of his hammer being dropped. He was done. Gripping the blade tightly with the tongs once more, he pivoted on his heel, trusting the metal deep into a barrel of water standing nearby.

A cloud of steam, accompanied by a loud hissing sound, rose from the mouth of the barrel. Amaranth waited patiently. Slowly he drew the tongs back out of the water, the newly-finished blade hanging from their grasp, dripping wet and rippling in the light. The blade itself was rippled, the soft and hard metals forming into a single sheet like the surface of moving water, the steel held in a flowing form of metal. In the flickering, glowing light, the water looked almost red in color; for a moment the blade seemed to drip with blood.

Amaranth laid the finished steel on a cloth, his eyes running over it proudly. It was a good blade---it would make a fine dirk. Light but strong, and very beautiful. 

"A lady's weapon," he remarked out loud, turning to face Morgen and wiping his hands on the leather apron bound about his waist. "A weapon of grace. That will not be a man's blade."

"I only pray that no lady ever has need to defend herself with it," replied Morgen, silver eyes twinkling.

Amaranth's own grey eyes filled with a strange light of thoughtfulness for a moment; then he smiled, the dirt and soot on his face not making the gesture any less welcoming. "So, you silver albino of an actor, what do you want, eh?"

"Oh, just a hundred blades or two, you ox-bodied man of a blacksmith, eh," replied Morgen, imitating his friend's body posture and voice to perfection. Behind them Apathy smiled gently.

Amaranth eyed Morgen's impression of himself; then he threw back his head and laughed. "You're a natural, Morgen. Smudge some dirt on your face and you could fool my own mother!"

"Well I always was rather partial to acting, you know," replied Morgen, his tone lengthened to sound more philosophic and old. Amaranth laughed again.

"My friend, if only you could be an actor and nothing but an actor---you'd revolutionize your profession."

"Ah, if only I could," sighed the silver-haired maren. He brightened. "But to get down to business…I have a rather large order for you."

"Oh really?" Amaranth began cleaning a blade with a rag as he talked. "How large are we talking?"

"Very large. As in, several dozen blades."

"Several dozen?" Amaranth paused in his polishing to stare at his friend. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Well, let me think on that one for a bit," joked Morgen, assuming a thinking pose. He soon returned to seriousness. "I really do need several dozen, though. Thirty at least. Reala's doing a major overhaul of the entire army's system, moving every maren around to the place he thinks they should be in---and that means I've got more orders for weapons than I know what to do with."

"Can't you find some extras somewhere?" Amaranth was polishing the sword blade again, having worked out of his initial shock. "Several dozen blades will take me months to create."

"Believe me, Amaranth, I'm trying! I'm looking in every corner and around the hallway and in all the extra closets and I think I've even looked under all the dust. I just can't come up with enough to meet the demand."

"I believe you," sighed the blacksmith, hanging the blade up along with several others that were waiting for hilts. "I'll try my best, Morgen, but I can't make any promises. Thirty some-odd blades is a heavy load."

"Tell me about it." Morgen showed his sympathy very plainly. "And I'll be grateful for the slightest help, I assure you. But it wouldn't hurt if we could get one or two in kind of quick…Reala was a bit annoyed that I couldn't come up with much right away…"

Amaranth nodded understandingly. "Of course. I have a few that only need hilts---I'll have them bound up and sent over by tomorrow. That ought to be enough to take the heat off of you for awhile."

"Thanks." Morgen looked relieved. Then, as always, his mood shifted. "So that's that! I'll be seeing you around…gorgeous dirk blade, by the way."

"Thank you." Amaranth's face shone with pride. "It's a lovely blade. It'll make a fine weapon for some young girl."

"And I sincerely hope she never has to use it," returned Morgen, and turned to leave, giving Apathy a quick salute and a silver wink as he passed and getting a meek nod in return.

Amaranth watched the weapon caretaker go on his merry way, eyes troubled. "That's what I'm afraid of," he murmured. "Not so much for the girl---but for you. You're not a fighter, Morgen."

Beside him the dirk blade shone, flickering red and shadow in crimson ripples that disappeared when the fire fell lower. Some day soon it would ripple crimson again, and the color would not be removed so easily.

NiGHTS stared up at the stars. Or, what he could see of the stars. There were too many clouds scudding across the sky for more than a small patch of blue to show through here or there. His eyes were fixed upon the largest of these patches, where a single lavender star shone brightly. A very bright, cold, lone lavender star. 

A cloud passed over his patch of sky for an instant, and he blinked, broken out of his almost trance-like reverie. He'd nearly dozed off. How long had he been here, staring out the window? Hours, at least…

He waited impatiently for his star to come back, but the clouds didn't want to uncover it again. Sighing, he turned his gaze downwards to stare at the plains of Nightmare, newly covered with the shades of night.

His mind wandered across the landscape, where hills and trees were shadowed in the rippling forms of cloud-shadows; however, it did not stay there. Almost without his realizing it, his thoughts began to circle back, coming to the castle once more to focus on a single room on the second floor. His brother's room.

Reala. He was there; NiGHTS could sense him, feel him through a faint, inexplicable bond that he and Reala shared, and that Reala refused to acknowledge. NiGHTS knew that Reala could feel it quite well, and simply didn't like the thought of being bonded so closely to somebody. But NiGHTS knew there was something there; he could focus on his brother's being almost as if he could somehow feel his energy. If he concentrated hard enough, he sometimes fancied he could hear a faint heartbeat beside his own.

Tonight that bond was strangely muted. He could only barely sense his brother's presence, even though they were quite close in distance; the ghost of a heartbeat was not there. It was as if he were far off from his brother, and moving farther.

Perhaps he was, in a sense. Reala was…different, somehow. Odd. Too angry to be Reala. Wizeman had made him different, and NiGHTS didn't like it when Reala was different; he wanted his brother the way he always had been. He wanted his brother, not some cold, unfeeling general. He wanted the brother he'd always known.

He wanted Reals to come back.

Reala shoved his candle onto the table beside his bed, grabbing at the book on military strategy that nearly fell off as a result of his slightly careless placement. He moved to put the book down, but paused while doing so; his eyes moved unbidden over the book's rather plain binding. Military Strategy, the cover read. A Treatise Upon Battle Tactics And Fighting Styles For The Taming Age.

The Taming Age---that was what, four, five hundred years ago? All the way back when unknown creatures and mythical monsters had roamed the land still, back when fighting was still necessary. _'The writer of this book knew what he was talking about. Now that was an age of power!'_

His lip curled into a slight sneer. _'Unlike the present day. Half of those rookies don't even know how to wield a sword!'_

This was not exactly said rookies' fault, as they had all been created after the Taming Age, when fighting had become unneeded. What was there to fight? Dreamers? Nightopians? Plants?

However Reala was not considering why the younger generation was inept in the ways of fighting. He was considering what their ineptness would mean to the mission: the mission to take over the Waking World.

_'They're going to slow us down,' _he muttered mentally, as he got in bed and pulled the silky covers about him. _'They need to shape up, and fast. They need to realize how real this is, that it isn't a game. They need to see what it's really like.'_

Of course, 'what it's really like' changes depending upon which person you talk to; an optimistic person will say that it's really a bright, cheerful world out there. A realistic person, on the other hand, will say something quite different. What it's like isn't nice.

They would see what it was like for Reala soon enough.

Jackle lay in bed, eyes dancing over the shadows that moved sluggishly across the ceiling like wide, ragged ghosts. His pulse was racing.

_'I know a secret,'_ his mind sang. _'I know a secret you don't know, I know a secret that you don't know! I know a secret, I know a secret, I know a secret! I know a secret I can't tell you, I know a secret---no one can know! I know a secret, I know a secret, I know a secret you don't know!'_

"I know a secret," he whispered to the heavy, suddenly stifling night air. "I know a secret, and no one can know!"


	6. But A Servant When He Reigneth

~AN~ *singing* Good morning to you, good morning to you! We're---

Bass: *backhands her* 

Ow.

Bass: Sing again and I swear I'll throw you out the window.

*muttergrumble* Ahem. Hi, everyone. Obviously I'm feeling a bit…um…loony. It's raining here, and the entire outer world is cloaked in a thick sheet of grey. Which is a poetic way of saying that IT'S CRUMMY OUTSIDE! *ahems again* So I'm feeling a bit under the weather…and showing it by acting weird, I guess.

Bass: Put up the blasted theory already.

Fine, you impatient metal-covered brute. *humph* On to the theory.

Bass: _What_ did you call me?

__

Nightmaren Theory Num. 3: Fashion And Other Things

To have, or not to have, that is the question. For whether 'tis nobler to give in to the insistence of more experienced obsessors, or to cling valiantly to one's own ideals, and---

Bass: WHAT did you call me?

Okay, heck with Shakespeare. The point is that some nightmaren have hair, and some don't. If you've read any of my stuff, you're probably aware that mine do. Why? Three reasons.

1. Can you imagine a bald NiGHTS?

2. The first picture I saw of NiGHTS was a fan work of him with hair, so now he looks strange to me without it.

3. What the heck.

These aren't very good reasons, I'm afeard, but then I never was very good at debate. (Would very probably flunk the class.) In my stories, Nightmare has a vaguely 'human' side---maren's clothes aren't part of their bodies, sweat and blood and all that other nice stuff isn't absent, they aren't just energy but made of flesh and bone, they use weapons and not just paraloops, et cetera yadda yah. Ergo, they have hair, excepting Apathy who's an exception.

AC: Yeesh, that sounded redundant.

Yeah. So…hair's here. *blink* And…that just took approximately seven paragraphs to explain something that wasn't even worth explaining. … I think the fog's getting to me. I have nothing witty to sum it all up with.

Bass: And this is different from the norm---how?

Okay, I now have a plan of action. I am going to go chase a certain maverick yelling insults, and let you poor people finally read the chapter. Now before I lose my train of thought yet again I'll go and do whatever I said I was going to do. What did I say I was going to do?

AC: Eat peaches.

Yeah…I think…this weather is really wacking me out. Get over here so I can give you a good backhander, Bass.

Disclaimer: *various sounds of chaos*

__

What's madness but nobility of soul

At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!

I know the purity of pure despair,

My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.

That place among the rocks---is it a cave,

Or winding path? The edge is all I have…

Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.

My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,

Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I_?_

A fallen man, I climb out of my fear…

In A Dark Time, by Theodore Roethke

__

Chapter Six:

But A Servant When He Reigneth 

On the ground floor, the younger maren were awake and heading for the Dining Hall. The first arrivals were greeted with a bright grin.

"It seems you guys come earlier and earlier!" laughed the girl who was nearly done putting out the platters of food, also the owner of the smile.

"That's because we have your food to look forward to, Chaotica!" returned Nyct.

"Yeah, we can't wait to get it over with," added a boy just coming in. Nyct shot him a chastising glance, but Chaotica simply laughed.

"Oh, hush, Heckler," she chided. "Or else you won't get any." Turning, she pretended to stalk off in high dudgeon, her black lace shawl fluttering from where it was tied about her waist. 

"Ooh, you got Chaos mad," teased another person just entering. There were several exclamations of greeting as a boy with a bandage wrapped about his arm entered.

"How's the bite, Emil?" called out someone from across the room.

The boy grinned. "Fine. Although it stings something fierce, I'll tell you…"

"Yeah, those Gao can be pretty nasty," remarked Heckler dryly.

"Oh, shut up." Emil stuck his tongue out at the brown and red maren as he took his place in line.

Noisy chatter soon filled the room as a large amount of the castle's nightmaren population came to eat. Several of the teachers were scattered among the masses, although some preferred to eat in the peace of the teacher's lounge. Luna was one of the former.

"Anything new?" she questioned as she sat. Tessa blinked casually at her.

"You're jumping the gun a bit, wouldn't you say? Most people have only been up for half an hour at most. Less, actually."

"Just wondering. A maverick golem might very well attack at night."

"Oh, so now it's maverick?" remarked Corbeau, seating himself several spaces down amid general welcome.

"Wow, a maverick golem! It's a spell-bound creature! A raving monster from the unknown!" Morgen's silver eyes flashed with the drama. "A long-forgotten beast, now prowling the night once more! A mysterious---"

"Creation of your delusional mind," cut in Luna dryly. "This was no spell-bound creature, Morgen, basically because there is no such thing. It was a golem, as far as we know, and it was acting strangely. That's cause enough for worry."

"Luna has a point there," Corbeau conceded. "Forgive me for making light of a serious situation."

"You're forgiven."

"I still don't think a weird golem is as exciting as a spell-bound rampaging creature," said Morgen to the air, pouring himself a cup of elderberry wine as he did so. "It's not half as interesting."

"But it's just as dangerous," replied Corbeau.

There was a round of head nodding at his statement. A golem, rampaging or not, was bad news.

NiGHTS smiled half-heartedly at the maren who greeted him, but his expression was not cheerful. He looked as if he'd spent a sleepless night staring out the window, judging from the tired look in his eyes; and, had his floppy not been pulled firmly onto his head, his tangled, night-breeze-swept locks would have helped give him away.

He came to Reala's door but didn't bother going in; he could feel his brother wasn't there. But where was he? NiGHTS tried to search out his brother's position, but the connection was still strangely muted. He couldn't judge where he brother was.

_'It's only the price for not getting any sleep,' _he thought as he made his slow way down the stairs. _'I shouldn't have stayed up like that. But I just couldn't make myself calm down.'_

Shrugging, he managed to slide the slight feeling of premonition into some back corner of his mind and look ahead to his day, the wonder of what would happen masking the fear of what had. As he reached the bottom of the stairs his stride strengthened, and by the time he was at the Dining Hall the traces of worry were completely gone from his expression.

He wasn't the only one who had passed a restless night.

Jackle staggered to the balcony, pushing open the wooden door to stumble out into the open air and lean on the parapet, inhaling the dusky morning air without the usual pleasure he received. The air was heavy with promise of rain. Jackle did not notice.

He stared downwards, chest pressed against his arms as he slumped on the railing, exhausted after a night of constant worry. His breathing began to slow as he inhaled the thick mist of morning.

_How are you?_

_'Fine,' _he answered blearily, not jumping this time. 

_You don't feel fine._

'You're right. I don't.'

What's the matter?

'Don't you know? You seem to know everything else, you must know this!'

This?

_'The secret!' _he replied desperately. _'The secret I can't tell!'_

The voices did not entreat him to calm down; perhaps they believed telling the panicked demi-maren to do so would only frighten him more. _You can tell us._

'It's the secret I learned! Master mustn't know!'

Why not?

'He can't know, I'm not allowed in there! But if I don't tell him then he'll be raving mad once he finds out---'

How do you know he'll find out?

'He will! Master knows. He'll find it out, I know.'

Why are you so afraid of him finding out?

'He'll hurt me!' Jackle gave a mental whimper. _'Master hurts so bad…'_

_You seem to have some experience in this area,_ observed the voices.

__

'…he'll find out!'

Stop babbling. You need to face the rest of the world.

_'I can't---'_

_You can. We believe in you. You can stand on your own, Jackle; you're strong. You don't have any reason to cower here. Hide it all in the back of your mind, and no one will ever find it._

_'No one will ever find it,'_ repeated Jackle.

__

That's right. No one will find it. With us here you can face the world and laugh at it.

_'Laugh at it?'_

_You can laugh in its face. Go on, laugh._

_'Why?'_

Laughter is power, Jackle. Laugh.

_'Okay…' _He inhaled and then breathed a small, nervous laugh.

__

No, we mean laugh! You can laugh in the face of everyone, and no one can control you---really laugh!

"Ha…ha…" 

He broke off. _'I can't,'_ he whispered desperately. _'I just can't!'_

He thought he felt them sigh, but when he focused their tone was kind. _Don't worry, Jackle. Laughter will come with time. First you must learn to survive._

Straighten up, Jackle. Take a deep breath.

Tentatively he did as told, shivering slightly as he did so. _'But I…'_

Straighten up more. There.

He mimicked the word. "There."

__

You're standing.

"Yes."

_Now go out with your head high. You have the right._

"Okay…"

Slowly he began taking their advice, yawning as he reached for the doorknob. _'My, I'm tired…'_

There will be time enough for sleep tonight. For now you need to go out and be yourself.

'Be myself?'

Yes. Be who you are. Good luck! And remember---laughter is the only weapon you need. Laughter is power.

He blinked as they left; then, he turned the knob and went out.

Reala stalked down the hall, busy with both grand plans of world domination and some slightly smaller articles as well, such as how to get through the unbelievably thick heads of the younger generation. 

Actually, they were pretty attentive, as far as things went; it was the mish-mash of organized chaos that would be tough to work through. Things were hardly ever defined---sometimes it seemed almost as if maren just did what they wanted to do. How would they ever manage to take over the Waking World if no one even knew what they were?

Preoccupied as he was with his ponderings on organization and youth ability, he never even noticed the nightmaren that came through a door behind him and then slipped back in just as quickly as he'd exited.

NiGHTS crouched down in the shadows of the doorway, watching as his brother strode on down the hall, never even sensing him. What on earth could be so fascinating that he couldn't feel NiGHTS that close by?

Luminous violet eyes watched the Seeker General disappear around a corner, but the owner of the eyes did not leave his sheltered spot. NiGHTS was still thinking. Why hadn't Reala sensed him? Surely the connection wasn't that weak…

He concentrated, and again was rewarded with only a very faint feeling of identification, marking Reala's general position but not his exact location. That was disconcerting. It felt as if his brother was pulling farther and farther away, and he still could do nothing about it.

The deep violet eyes closed. This was beginning to become disturbing.

Jackle swept down the hallway, ignoring the stealthy looks that were thrown his way by curious maren. _'Keep your head high, keep your head high…'_

"Well, if it isn't the walking talking floating head. Wait, you don't have a head any more, do you? My mistake."

_'Shards…'_ He turned slowly to face Clawz, scanning the catmaren's eyes to try and to guess his intentions. "What is it?"

"I don't know," replied Clawz, grinning through his whiskers as he saw another insult opportunity. "I was just trying to figure that out---is it just a pair of floating gloves, or is there actually a person under there?"

Jackle's eyes flashed angrily, but he found nothing to say. Then the voices' advice came back to him. _'Laugh.'_

Slowly he forced his mouth to smile, remembering to pull up his lips in a slight snarl so that his new fangs glinted in the light. Swallowing, he laughed.

It died out soon. But it was nice, that laugh; high and breathless, up and down in quick succession. He felt energized by it.

He focused his eyes upon Clawz---for some strange reason they'd become slightly unfocused when he laughed---to see the catmaren's reaction. It was startling.

Clawz was staring at him, his ears pressed flat against his skull. His red eyes were wide. 

Jackle smiled. No, he grinned. Making sure to show his fangs. "You're amusing, Clawz."

The catmaren did not answer. Finally he forced his ears back into their proper position, his voice a low hissing tone. "You laugh like a psychotic hyena."

Anger bubbled up within the demi-maren, but he forced himself to keep calm. He had to hold his head high and laugh. 

"Why, thank you," he replied, grinning. The grin came easier this time, and he knew his fangs were easy to see. "But I thought you were the one who was descended from animals?…"

Clawz snorted, head recoiling slightly as he did so, almost like a horse that has scented something unpleasant. He wrinkled his nose, ears twitching. "I don't…shut up." And with that he fled the hall.

Jackle was left standing alone, the victor of the battle. He hadn't run like he always did---Clawz had run. He had won.

He smiled, not bothering to show his fangs this time; for some odd reason they were visible anyway. The voices were right. Laughter was power.

Tossing back his head, he laughed.


	7. Finding Their Way Into The Maze Of Desti...

~AN~ Hullo, all. Before I put up today's theory, I'd just like to address a reviewer or two…

First off, Yami, about the Jackle's Size issue…you have a picture proving it? Drat, I was hoping I could write that weird habit of his off to NID players' faulty memories…

*sigh* I have been told that Jackle can change his size. I don't know if this is true, or if he's just bigger than NiGHTS period, but in my stories he is not either. He's a wee bit shorter than NiGHTS and Reala, wiry build. No size changing.

(On a side note…you're going to play the game soon, right? Well, when you do, would you mind telling me which area you meet Jackle in? I've gotten three or four different answers to this, and it's beginning to get kind of strange…I'd be extremely grateful if you'd take the time to set that straight for me!)

To Nix: you addressed a grammatical problem in your last review, and I'd just like to clarify that a bit. You were referring, I trust, to the following line: 'Shrugging, he managed to slide the slight feeling of premonition into some back corner of his mind and look ahead to his day, the wonder of what would happen masking the fear of what had.'

Your pointer made me stop and reevaluate that sentence, but I don't believe a comma would be appropriate. The problem spot was 'the wonder of what would happen masking the fear of what had,' correct? 'Wonder' being the subject, 'masking' being the verb, and 'fear' being the object, the actual base of the sentence part is 'the wonder masked the fear'. 'Of what would happen' and 'of what had' are only descriptive parts joined with the subject and object; therefore a comma is not necessary in this sentence any more than it is necessary in the sentence 'John threw the ball'. ('John, threw the ball' being the respective version.)

That's what I believe, at least, but I'm not an expert---you may have a very good reason or grammar rule for your point, and I'd love to hear it! My mother's an English major, you see, and grammar tends to come up rather often in this household…I'm pleased any time I can improve my usage. Thanks for taking the time to point that out!

Oh, and as a note to Dusk…don't worry, I'll write more. Not that it would have any effect on this current story---the whole thing's already written! It takes me over half an hour to put up a chapter, you see, and that's why I'm taking my time about it. But the whole story will be up in due time, I promise. Hey, Som, say hi to Dusk.

Insomnia: Dusk?

Melon: Dusk?

*whaps Insomnia* Dusk the Wolf, you idiot.

Insomnia: *in confusion* Do I know him?

Melon: Dusk?

Her, you moron. Y'know, NightSky and all?

Insomnia: *brightening* Oh yeah! 

Melon: Dusk is the night sky? I thought dusk was in the morning.

Figment: That's dawn.

Melon: Oh.

Insomnia: *waving frantically* Hiya Dusk! Watch this!! *dives into a bubble*

Muses: *stare at bubble* …

Bass: Where'd that come from?

RPG.

Bass: Oh.

Insomnia: *emerges dripping wet and ecstatic* Wasn't that a cool dive?!

AC: You're way too cheerful for this time of night.

Bass: And Avis is way too long-winded.

And what did I do to deserve that?

Bass: Started a conversation between your muses when you were supposed to put up the blasted theory already.

Oh yeah.

__

Nightmaren Theory Num. 4: Food. Enough said.

Do nightmaren need to eat? I personally can't imagine life without pizza…or tea. Are nightmaren allowed the enjoyment of a five-star banquet, or do they just float around absorbing moisture from the air and smelling the mints?

Insomnia: I'm hungry.

*gives him a cookie*

Muses: COOKIE!!

*groans, hands over cookie jar; tries to ignore flying crumbs* Ahem. So, do nightmaren really need to eat? If they do, what exactly do they eat, anyway?

Anyone looking at Puffy has probably already made a decision on this issue, obviously. But perhaps she was created that way. Just because some nightmaren are overweight doesn't mean they eat.

In the NID comics, NiGHTS' stomach growls, which would suggest he needs to eat. *shields head* Don't hit me, purists! I know the comics aren't always considered canon! It's just something to ponder, that's all.

Insomnia: COOKIE!

In my universe, nightmaren need to eat just as often as we humans do, although a liquid is not any different than a solid food. Reason? Allow me to explain.

Bass: No.

Insomnia: Cookie, YAY!

Food is made, gathered, etc. from things already present in the Dream World: plants, animals, yadda yap. My idea, currently, is that things not created by Wizeman---Dream World and all things natural being part of that category---are made of 'base energy'; a more neutral, solid kind of energy, as opposed to positive or negative. 

In my universe, maren need to replenish their energy on a semi-regular basis. Energy is consumed by their bodies through activities such as flying, running, and fighting; it is also used for healing injuries. Where does the used-up energy go? Pay more attention in health class.

Nightmaren are made out of negative energy, and therefore it would sound more sensible that they, if refueling was even needed, would need negative energy. My theory for my maren, however, is that base energy is usable as an energy source. Their structure and being were made out of negative energy---criminy, I'm using that word a lot---but their body will consume any sort of energy for fuel. (In the third NID comic, Claris and Elliot sacrifice their Ideya to heal NiGHTS; therefore he can use positive energy to heal. *ducks under her computer desk* No tomatoes, purists, no tomatoes! Just letting you know how things are in the comics…that event may have happened in the game, but I wouldn't know.)

Ergo: In my universe, food is made out of base energy. Nightmaren, while created from negative energy, can use base energy as a fuel source, and they do; it comes in more edible sources such as plants and so forth, while no one would really want to eat a big glowing ball. Liquids are made of the same base as solids, so they aren't technically needed any more than food is, but they are enjoyed for refreshment, and so are just as common in the Dream World as they are in a school cafeteria. It's far more refreshing to take a drink of cold water after a practice flight than it is to eat stale crackers.

There, theory number four, explained, expounded, and expanded upon.

Bass: Outrageous, overlong, and not orthodox.

Insomnia: COOKIE! YAY!!

Disclaimer: "CRUD, that was a blasted long author's note!"---AC

__

You tossed a blanket from the bed,

You lay upon your back, and waited;

You dozed, and watched the night revealing

The thousand sordid images

Of which your soul was constituted;

They flickered against the ceiling…

His soul stretched tight across the skies

That fade behind a city block…eyes

Assured of certain certainties,

The conscience of a blackened street

Impatient to assume the world.

I am moved by fancies that are curled

Around these images, and cling;

The notion of some infinitely gentle

Infinitely suffering thing.

Wipe your hands across your mouth and laugh;

The worlds revolve…

Preludes, by T. S. Eliot

__

Chapter Seven: 

Finding Their Way Into The Maze Of Destiny

"You." He gestured at a promising looking maren. "What do you study?"

"Me, sir?" The muscular boy blinked. "I'm a healer, sir."

"A healer?" Reala shook his head in disgust. "You're a fighter, boy. Look at your build. You need to be in the ranks, not in the Infirmary."

"Miss Stella says I'm a natural healer, sir."

"Miss Stella is wrong. You're in the Second Power Division now, understood?"

"Yes sir."

Gillwing stretched, wings reaching up until they nearly touched the ceiling. Puffy protested audibly as they invaded her space as well. "Hey! Do your morning exercises somewhere else, you hulking brute!"

Gillwing pulled his wings back to his sides. "Sorry."

"It's all right." She returned to her book. 

The door opened silently and Clawz entered, heading straight for his red cushioned seat, as usual. His gait was different, however; he looked almost as if something had spooked him.

Gulpo slowly made his way to the surface of the water to ask, "What happened to you?"

"I have now decided that Jackle is most definitely insane," Clawz declared in response.

"Really?" Puffy looked up interestedly. "What happened?"

"I insulted him about his looks in the hall. And he laughed."

Puffy halted, forgetting to chide Clawz for his insensitivity in her surprise. "Laughed?"

"He laughed. And it wasn't a natural laugh, either, Puff. It was wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Strange, and jumpy. Like he couldn't control it, really." His voice lowered and he turned his head to look at the fire, eyes reflecting the dancing flames before him. "If you listened close, you could almost hear…more than one voice in it. Like there were many voices in his, laughing."

NiGHTS swung his legs, staring between his feet down at the gardens below. Perched on his balcony railing, swinging his feet and staring down, lost in thought, he strongly reminded AC of Jackle.

The crow landed on the railing and cawed. NiGHTS started and nearly fell off.

When he'd gotten his grip again, he glared at the crow. "What's wrong with you, bird? You nearly scared me out of my wits! Give people a warning before you screech in their ears!"

AC was used to temperamental maren; after all, he often resided with Jackle. He ignored the leader's indignant outburst and began preening calmly.

NiGHTS' annoyance gradually died out as he watched the crow groom himself, sleek black feathers reflecting what little sun broke through the clouds. It had been cloudy for so long---he wanted to see the sun.

_'See the sun?'_ he questioned himself, surprised. _'I'm a nightmaren---I shouldn't be wanting to see the sun!'_

But he did. He realized, focusing on his feelings, that he wanted to see the sun again. Not through little windows in the clouds, but in all its glory. Shining down on everything with warm, bright rays. "Maybe I should go to Stick Canyon…"

AC cawed. NiGHTS glanced at him. "What, you like Stick Canyon?"

The crow bobbed his head. NiGHTS blinked, startled. "I didn't just see that." The crow cocked his head to one side, looking incredulous. NiGHTS blinked again. "You acted like you could understand me!"

AC bobbed his head again. NiGHTS looked closer. "Is that just some sort of crow habit to jerk your head up and down, or are you actually trying to tell me 'yes'?"

Once more the crow nodded. The nightmaren smiled. "Okay, shake your head 'no'. _Then_ I'll believe you."

AC complied. NiGHTS' violet eyes widened. "Whoa, you can actually understand me! You're smart!"

If AC had the capability, he probably would have rolled his eyes. As it was, he just gave NiGHTS an 'I told you' look.

NiGHTS smiled. "Well, what's your name? Wait, you can't tell me…drat. Do you even have a name?"

Nod.

"Okay…does anyone here know it?"

Nod.

"Is it one of the students?"

Shake. No.

"The teachers?"

Shake.

"A High Seeker?"

Emphatic nod.

"Really? I never knew one of them had a pet crow…well, is it Puffy?"

Violent shake.

"No way…not Reala!"

Very violent shake.

"Jackle?"

Violent nod.

"So you're Jackle's crow," mused NiGHTS. "Well, that's a surprise! I never knew…I'll have to ask him what your name is. So, you want to go to Stick Canyon?" AC nodded. "Okay, let's go and soak up some sun!"

Course decided, he took off, AC flying beside him. He grinned at the crow. "Hey, you're pretty fast."

This sparked a race of sorts, with both jumping over each other like dolphins in the air. AC was surprisingly agile for a crow; he kept up with NiGHTS easily enough to follow the leader's acrobatics like a small shadow.

A commotion down below caused NiGHTS to glance down. A large group of maren, at least fifteen strong, were moving through Mystic Forest; leading them was Clawz. Jackle was following behind.

NiGHTS rolled his eyes and continued flying. Those scouting missions were never a good thing to get drawn into, mainly because they were less of a mission and more of an outright verbal battle between Clawz and Jackle. He had no desire to get involved.

AC, however, banked sharply. NiGHTS pulled up and hovered. "Hey, where're you going?"

The crow circled about him, cawing quietly. "Oh, that's right---you're Jackle's. You want to go see him?"

AC tried to reply via their nod-shake method, but found it hard to do so while flying. He gave up and landed on NiGHTS' wrist, shaking his head.

"No?" NiGHTS was surprised. "Then what do you want to do? Why did you turn around?"

AC cawed as he hopped off NiGHTS' arm and began circling lazily, slowly moving eastward to follow the path of the scouting party. NiGHTS cocked his head, trying to understand. "You want to just watch from up above?"

AC dove to his wrist again and nodded violently, apparently relieved that his message had gotten through. NiGHTS shrugged. "Okay. But I don't know why…they won't do much, and they're big enough to take care of themselves. They don't need someone to keep an eye on their surroundings."

AC, about to take off again, halted to turn and give NiGHTS a knowing look.

'So you think,' he seemed to say.

Luna was complaining to Tessa. The sparring instructor had a bad habit of complaining; she would do whatever was asked of her, no matter how difficult, but she would be sure to let everyone know she wasn't happy about it. Currently she was complaining about the new system of fighting units.

"Everything was working just fine! I had a promising group of kids and a lot of new fighters, but does he leave well enough alone? No, he has to go and sort out everyone by what _he_ thinks should be done, and that means I've got a lancer who falls over when she tries to carry the lance, a hand-to-hand fighter who hits like a jellyfish, and an archer who doesn't know that the bowstring doesn't always stay strung on the bow! How am I supposed to teach these kids to spar when they can't even figure out how to use their weapons?"

"You don't teach archery," pointed out Tessa calmly. "I do."

"No, but that boy was one of my best lancers. Now he can't even fend off a Gao with his weapon!"

"Joy." Tessa continued waxing her bowstring casually. "Now I've got a group of maren who are even more imbecilic than the last."

"Yes, I don't envy your position," replied Luna, rubbing hard on her beloved lance's blade. "But you still have PM, at least. And Heckler isn't too shabby with a bow."

"No, but he's the worst heckler in the world. I won't be able to say a sentence without him feeling as if he must insert some form of sarcasm."

"How on earth did he get that name, anyway? Fits perfectly."

"It was a nickname. No one even remembers his real one anymore."

"Well, as long as he responds to it. As much response as you can expect from Heckler, anyway. I'd like to just sic Reala on _him_ for awhile, instead of watching the general go barging about changing everything around!" She polished her blade fiercely, taking out her frustrations upon it. It didn't seem to mind.

NiGHTS yawned and stretched, refreshed from his time spent lolling about in the sun. "It's late, crow. We followed the scouts all the way out and back, and we've been here for at least an hour or two---we'd better head home. I still have Ideya to collect."

AC cawed understandingly and took to the air, looking down at the violet-eyed nightmaren expectantly. NiGHTS laughed and rose after him, then laughed again as he caught an updraft of hot air which sent him spiraling upwards of its own accord. AC cawed and followed suit, spreading out his wings like a bird of prey to coast upwards after his new maren friend.

NiGHTS let the stream of warm air carry him up to its peak, at which point he leveled off and waited for AC to catch up. Then he grinned. "Let's do that again…"

They spent a good two hours just riding the winds of Stick Canyon, having fun.

"Ow!"

"Well it wouldn't sting so if yi'd hold still for a second!" scolded the woman, only slightly lessening the pressure she was applying to the bandage. The maren being treated slumped sulkily.

"Well you're pushing too hard!"

"You're movin' about too much," returned Stella. "Now hold still!"

"Miss Stella?"

"What is it, lad?" she asked, not looking up from her work.

The person peeking around the corner of the door straightened and entered, speaking in his usual polite manner. "Am I interrupting you?"  
"Of course not! I'm only cleanin' up a bite wound on this agile young man." She chased the squirming boy's wound with her rag, trying to keep the cloth pressed in the same spot. "Hold still, lad! I can't heal yi' if yi' don't hold still! Now what was it yi' wanted, Strix?"

Strix bowed his head slightly, feet together in a posture of polite respect. "Reala has decided that I should be in the fighting ranks, not the Infirmary staff."

"What?" She took the hand of the boy being tended and pressed it against the bandage. "Hold that there, lad."

Emil did so, albeit very carefully. Stella turned to face her understudy. "Now what's all this about? You're leavin' me?" 

"Yes ma'am. By Reala's orders."

"Reala's orders? He's takin' away my best student, the brute! Now who'll---keep that thing pressed on hard, lad!---who'll be my helper? Not Varia, that's for sure---I said, keep it pressed on hard!---she couldn't tell a leg bone from her nose…"

"She's a good archer," inserted Strix helpfully.

Stella, never one to merely chat when something could be accomplished, was sorting out bandages as she spoke. "Yes, you would stick up for your sister, wouldn't yi? She's a fine archer, no doubt about that, lad. But takin' away my finest student! What was the man thinking? I need Strix here, there's hardly enow healers as there is! Keep that thing pressed on HARD, boy! Can't believe this, now I'll have to work overtime to keep up with those sparring wounds---those teachers are loons, I tell yi, Stella! And all those scouting wounds, it'll be murder to try and keep up with---"

"You're speaking to yourself, Miss Stella," Strix reminded her.

"Ay, I am lad. But yi shouldn't grudge me my chatter, should yi now? I's only a bit of chatter, 'tis, though precious little it'll help me to mutter to miself, now that I'm losing my finest helper! Ach, yi'd think Reala'd have more sense'n that, takin' away a old healer's student!"

"Does she always talk to herself like this?" the wounded boy asked.

"Often enough," replied Strix.

Emil eyed Stella. "She's beginning to freak me out."

"Oh hush, lad," scolded Stella, now folding the bandages, her hands moving as quickly and gracefully as a bird, bearing witness to years of experience. "It's not proper t' tease yi're elders."

The door opened again. Strix stepped back as Jackle brushed by, heading straight for the medicine shelf. "That's the last time I let him lead us through Mystic Forest," he was muttering.

Strix bowed. "Lord Jackle."

Stella nodded as she worked. "Milaird, can I help yi?"

Jackle ignored her, shuffling quickly through the various jars and bottles on the shelf until he apparently found the one he wanted. He turned and left with it, still muttering. "A whole phalanx? Who in their right mind would take a whole phalanx of inexperienced kids out for a scouting mission? Scatter-brained mangy-furred cat, you don't take a whole phalanx of anything out for a scouting mission! Can't believe he…" His voice trailed off as he went on down the hall.

There was silence for a moment after he left; then the boy sitting on the table looked up at Strix. "Never mind her. Now I'm getting freaked out by _him_."

"Don't worry, Lord Jackle doesn't usually speak to himself that way." Strix glanced in the direction the High Seeker had left, his expression showing his underlying confusion.

"He's got plenty o' reason to, I'm sure," said Stella carelessly. 

"How do you know?"

"That was a bottle o' willowpress he took, lad. It's a cure for headaches. Must be feelin' heavy-headed, I guess. Keep that pressed hard!"

"I am!" complained Emil. "But it _hurts_!"

"It'll hurt far worse if y'don't stop the bleedin'," chided Stella. "It's your fault the thing opened again anyway---I told yi' not to fly until t'morrow at least! Keep it on."

The boy muttered something to himself about 'cruel tyrants' and did as he was told. Stella focused back on her bandages. Strix leaned over to begin helping.

"What, don't yi have t' go and learn t' fight with an axe or somethin', lad?"

"Not until tomorrow. Reala said we would need a day to get everything straightened out before we started the new schedule."

"Oh, so there's a new schedule now?"

"Yes ma'am. There's to be more training in the morning and afternoon."

"More training?" She tsked, clicking her tongue against her teeth in a show of disapproval. "What, are yi suppost to give up yi're breakfast or somethin'?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Ach. That Reala, he's a slavedriver t' be sure. I should talk t' him one o' these days…"

"Do-you-have-anything-on-teaberry-medicinal-treatments?" asked a maren, rushing in.

Stella didn't even look up to see who was spitting out such a fast and rather odd request. "Nay, Vespers, I don't think I do…most of th' medical books're in the library, aren't they?"

"Yes-but-I-have-someone-who's-researching-teaberry-and-its-practical-uses-and-I-couldn't-find-anything-on-it-so-I-was-wondering---" Here the blue and white clad girl paused for a breath. "---if you had anything on it?"

"Not really, no," murmured Stella calmly. "Sorry."

"Oh that's okay but are you sure I'd hate to disappoint the girl looking for it…"

"I know y' would, Vespers, but I really don't have anythin' useful. Don't worry, they'll survive, whoever they are. Now why don't yi calm down a second or two? Otherwise yi'll be in here because of hyperventilation…"

"Don't-worry-I'm-fine-thanks," and she was out again.

Emil shook his head. "She needs to calm down."

"Ay, that's for sure," agreed Stella. "Vespers is too serious about her job as a librarian---she needs t' calm down a mite."

"More than a mite," murmured the boy.

"Isn't that the truth. Keep that thing pressed hard, lad."

Jackle collapsed onto his study chair, eyes closed, holding the willow balm against his temples. _'Ugh, feels like my head's been used for a soccer ball…'_

Clawz was annoying you again?

He groaned quietly. _'Yeah, you could say that.'_

Did you laugh at him?

'I tried ignoring him. That's what they say you're supposed to do, you know.'

What do they know? It didn't work, did it?

'Not at all. By the end of the mission I was ready to strangle him. And the feeling was mutual.'

You should have laughed at him, the voices chided gently. _It worked this morning, didn't it?_

_'Yeah, you're right. I should have laughed at him.'_

Try it next time. We promise it'll work, just like it did this morning.

'Okay.'

What else is on your mind?

His eyes opened briefly at their perceptiveness. _'You have this knack for seeing when I don't feel good,'_ he mentioned.

_We're observant, aren't we? But tell us, what else is wrong?_

_'The secret,' _he whispered desperately. _'The secret I can't tell!'_

_No one will know, _soothed the voices. _Just calm down._

He straightened up, trying to get his point across. "But I know a secret!"

He clapped his hands over his mouth, sinking down to look around worriedly. He hadn't meant to speak out loud... _'I know a secret,'_ he concluded.

_And no one will know, _replied the voices. _No one will know._

Reala snorted, frustrated. It was already evening. The organization of the forces was taking far longer than he'd expected, and he still had the rest of the castle's workers to check on. Where was NiGHTS? 

"Scatter-brained maren," he muttered to himself as he flipped through the treatise on military tactics for the Taming Age. He intended to bone up on fighting tactics as much as possible in his spare time. Along with the organization and subsequent wave of training that would go along with it, he was going to be very busy. Too busy, almost.

But who else would do it? Puffy hadn't moved from the Great Hall except to eat and sleep, she was so involved in her books and things there; Gulpo just floated in his lagoon or bowl depending upon where he wanted to be; Gillwing was hopelessly stupid; Jackle was wandering about who knew where and generally acting strange; and NiGHTS---NiGHTS was out gallivanting about, probably playing darts with himself or some equally pointless, foolish game. And these were the High Seekers?

He snorted again, flipping angrily through the weathered pages. "More like Hopeless Flops," he snarled. "Will I have to do everything around here? NiGHTS should at least have the consideration to help out! But no, he's out playing in the meadows, making daisy chains! In the name of Wizeman, how are we supposed to be an army if no one has any respect?"

He looked up, slamming the book shut in disgust and then muttering as he was momentarily blinded by the resulting wave of dust from its leaves. He growled and swatted at the surrounding cloud; then, he paused.

A mirror hung in front of him, its frame of black iron worked into writhing branches and dark leaves. The glass reflected darkly, and for a moment he caught a vision of himself, wreathed in cloud, black and red melding around a pale, monstrous face with a crooked mouth and icy eyes, golden claws flashing in a vicious slash. It was a vision from a nightmare.

It was at that moment that the reality really sank in. He was the general of the nightmare forces. He was the leader of nightmares. He had to be cruel, cold, terrifying. Then he would receive respect. Then their goal would be accomplished.

Then he would truly be perfect.

Night. 

The winds blew moaningly through the corridors, rattling shutters, curling tapestries; they brushed across sleepers with icy fingers, making nightmaren shiver in their rest, some almost waking.

Upon the wall top, guards clutched their cloaks or coats tighter about them, blowing into their hands and stamping their feet or marching in small paces to try and keep warm. Above them the clouds skidded across the night sky, gathering in larger and larger clumps until they reached the center of the mass that had been growing over Nightmare Castle for days. The stars were shrouded in cloud, and the moon peeked through tiny openings to beam down on the wind-swept lands below.

In his room, Jackle shivered, clutching his mantle tighter about him. He hadn't taken it off when he went to bed. The familiar cloth brought some small measure of comfort, and he needed comfort tonight. The courage his victory against Clawz that morning had brought him had fled with the coming of night, and no matter how hard he tried he could not raise it up again. He felt frightened, as if the dark weather was a warning of things to come. His pulse was fast.

The wind blew through the shutters, banging them against the stone walls to flicker about his room, lifting papers, sliding pens, and curling into dying eddies in the corners. Clouds darkened the skies above, making the room fill with shivering shadows. Everything was cloaked in grey.

He wriggled deeper into the blankets, drawing them to his neck by fingers that were stiff with sudden cold. He was exhausted from going without sleep the night before. Closing his eyes, he tried to fall asleep. Why was it so cold?

NiGHTS waved from his window. "Goodbye, crow," he whispered.

AC cawed softly as he took off, circling for Jackle's balcony. NiGHTS watched him go, then turned back to his bed.

It was very late. He'd arrived back far later than he'd planned, having gotten caught up in playing on the wind with a certain friendly crow, and then he'd spent an hour or so playing hide-and-go seek, too, and then he had to run around gathering Ideya as fast as he could to come up with his standard par…he hadn't meant to stay out that late, honest.

He looked towards his door from habit---normally this was about the time he'd go and speak with Reala. But Reala was so cold and unfriendly these days, and he acted so busy all the time. NiGHTS winced. His brother probably wasn't too happy about his round of hooky, either. Perhaps it would be better to wait until morning. And he had to speak to Jackle about his crow, too.

He got into bed, some part of his mind murmuring in sorrow over the fact that his brother was so distant that he now had to wait for the right time to have a chat, instead of the "whenever you want to talk, I'll be there" approach they'd always had.

"Oh well," he sighed to the ceiling. "Tomorrow's things to do: have a nice talk with Reala, and ask Jackle about his pet crow."

NiGHTS didn't know, but he would not be able to do accomplish either one; the people he needed to speak to were already too far for him to reach. One was disappearing into the darkness of self-perfection, and the other was becoming lost within his own mind. Neither would come back to speak with him.

AC landed on the balcony railing, feeling disgusted with himself for staying out so long. Just because NiGHTS had been willing to play with him didn't mean he had the right to leave Jackle for the entire day! 

It had been nice to play, though. Jackle had been so busy with himself lately that he never had time to play any more…he was so caught up in trying to figure himself out. Poor Jackle. Why had he left him for the entire day?

AC shook his feathered head, flapping down onto the floor to hop towards Jackle's bed. He shouldn't have been gone for so long. Jackle had probably had a rough day, and needed someone to talk to---and he wasn't there! Stupid crow, he chastised himself.

Of course he had kept his eye on Jackle from above; the rumors about a golem in the forest had made him sure to do that. If NiGHTS had not stayed with him he would have done that anyway. You couldn't be too careful with a golem…

Deep, heavy breathing told him Jackle was already asleep. He bounded up to the bedstead, trying not to make any noise as he looked down to inspect his charge.

Jackle lay on his side, several blankets piled about and over him as if he was very cold. Which was odd, as the room was fairly warm… Looking closer, AC could see a small bead of sweat glistening on his forehead. So why did he have all these blankets?

Perhaps it was merely a way to sooth himself. The demi-maren looked as if he had not been in a quiet state of mind when he fell asleep; he was in a huddled semi-circle, mouth open in deep breaths, and his face was not entirely calm with sleep. His eyes were closed tightly as if in fear.

Leaning closer, AC could hear his heavy breathing become interspersed with muttering. The demi-maren's mouth was forming silent words, fluctuating in and out of comprehensibility. The crow listened closely.

"Go 'way…" murmured Jackle, his breathing coming faster with every broken sentence. "Go…so---cold….too many voi….cold…it's a secret…I can't…tell…"

AC frowned in an avian way, disturbed by the broken thoughts. Something wasn't right.

He jumped to the headboard to be closer to his friend, clawing for a grip on the shiny surface. Finally he managed to balance, and a bit of shuffling back and forth revealed a nice clawhold on a certain leaf carving. He settled down, fluffing out in preparation for bed, and listened to his friend's feverish murmurings.

"…no, I can't tell!…It's a secret, a secret! A secret no one can know…"


	8. First Steps

~AN~ Hullo, all. I'm currently running on two hours of sleep, having done a high ropes challenge course and other activities out in the pouring rain yesterday and getting five hours of sleep the night before, so I'm a bit out of it…happy, but out of it. *bounces up and down* Our computer's getting fixed, which means I'll be up and on the net within the weekend, I found a place to scan some of my sketches so I'll be able to put them up this weekend once we get our computer, _and_ I just received…drumroll, please…A PIECE OF FAN ART FOR THIS STORY!! *faints from the excitement*

Insomnia: *pokes her* I think Avis is dead.

Juno: Several scans show that Avis is in a state of exhaustive sleep, brought on by excessive activity without proper rest.

Insomnia: Oh.

AC: Great. Now we've got to do the author's note.

Bass: Let's just put up the story. No one will care.

AC: Avis will.

Bass: Your point?

AC: True. But then she'd come after us all with Fibui.

Muses: Oh.

AC: So on with the author's note. *ahem* Lunatics and germs, we are Avis' muses.

Muses: *wave*

AC: We will be your author's note hosts for today. What do we do?

Muses: *silence*

Bass: Here. Avis' 'List Of Things To Say In The Author's Note'.

AC: *stare*

Bass: It was in her hand.

AC: Oh. *clears throat; begins to read* Number One: Thank reviewers for solving the Jackle Conundrum. What the heck?

Insomnia I think she didn't know where Jackle was in the game, and then two different people answered her!

AC: Oh yeah, that's right. They reconfirmed what NightDragon said earlier---he's in Soft Museum. Okay, then: Thank you, Dusk and Yami! 

Muses: Thank you!

AC: Number Two is Write Nightmaren Theory. Well I sure ain't gonna write one for her.

Bass: She wrote the theory right below that.

AC: Oh yeah. Oops. *begins reading theory* Nightmaren Theory Number Five: More Fashion.

Bass: …shards.

AC: *still reading* Do nightmaren clothes come off? Are they part of the maren's bodies? 

Insomnia: I dunno.

Bass: He wasn't asking you, moron.

Insomnia: Oh.

AC: *still reading, ignoring talking in the background* In my universe, due to the 'realistic' side to things, i.e. hair and food and blood and all that, I thought it would be best if clothes were not part of the nightmaren anatomy. Sorry for those of you whose nightmaren can't take off their clothes. *stops reading* That's all.

Bass: That's all? She doesn't even explain it or anything?

AC: Not really, no.

Bass: That poor, poor girl.

AC: Those poor, poor reviewers.

Insomnia: Now what?

AC: Now we tell the people to read the story, and then we go eat a cookie.

Insomnia: Cookie, YAY!

Figment: Go read the story!

Melon: Cookie!!

Muses: *leave*

Disclaimer: "Oh yeah, I forgot about this thing. Okay, Avis owns nothing. Not even her own mind. That was taken over by a bunch of little purple men a long time ago. So she says."

__

Just now,

Out of the strange

Still dusk…as strange, as still…

A white moth flew. Why am I grown

So cold?

The Warning, by Adelaide Crapsey

_Chapter Eight:_

First Steps

That morning dawned dark. The sun rose in the east, half-hidden by the shades of Mystic Forest, and clouds hid the last stars turning in. A lone blue one tried valiantly to shine still, but finally its glow was faded into nothing by the light of the sun that could not reach Nightmare Castle.

Guards strode back and forth, glad to see the sun after a cold, windy night; the winds, however, had not abated, and the sun's rays only lit the sky above the overhanging clouds. It was going to be a very dark day.

Maren waking up were not greeted by the normal rays of light shining in through the windows, and heavy sleepers were roused by their cold counterparts. Tempers ran high and spirits went low. More than one complaint was voiced as the castle's population began to rise.

In his room, NiGHTS woke after a night of uneasy rest. He instantly concentrated by habit, trying to find his brother's energy. The feeling, when he found it, was almost too faint to trace. Reala felt as if he were moving even farther away.

On the other side of the High Seeker's hall, Reala woke from darkness to find the waking was not much brighter. His room, already decorated in deep colors, was hardly touched by the light from the windows. He yawned and stretched, finding a slight satisfaction in the feeling of muscles rippling along his arms; that satisfaction was lost in his remembrance of the task before him. He frowned, steeling himself to face the day as a general should. Glancing in the mirror, he straightened a bit, forcing the edge of his mouth to even out into a stern expression. There. Now he would receive respect. 

Deep in a pile of blankets, Jackle woke with a start, only to find himself in his room surrounded by dim colors and shadowy shapes. He sighed and stared upwards at the ceiling and it's spade and diamond pattern. It was so cold…

Outside the winds moaned about the castle, sounding almost like creatures crying and trying to get in. Slowly a sense of dark premonition settled upon the castle, brought on, no doubt, by the dark weather.

A storm was about to break.

Chaotica smiled brightly as the maren began to pour into the Dining Hall, her eyes seeking out a particular maren in red and brown.

Heckler caught sight of Chaotica's clothes from across the room. Bright colors splotched in random shapes across her shirt and pants and a dark black shawl about her waist helped to identify her from the rest. He threw her a roguish wink and called out, "Hey, Chaotica! What's on the menu?"

"You're getting a good hearty breakfast today!" Chaotica called back. "More like a supper---eggs and sausage!"

"Gee, hope the sausage wasn't someone I knew!"

She shook her head, laughing. "Oh, shut up and get in line, Heckler!"

The dark-clad maren did as told, grinning. He loved annoying people, and he loved making Chaotica laugh even more. Of course, he'd never admit to that.

Luna dropped into a random seat, as usual going for the more calm crowd of table mates. Tessa and Terrance were there; Corbeau and Morgen were not. A scout in training, one who Corbeau had a fast friendship with, was in his place. She gave the sparring instructor a sunny smile.

"So---" began Luna.

"Anything new on the golem?" finished Lunatic. Luna shot the sage-green nightmaren a look.

"Fringe."

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands. "I know, it's a serious thing. It's just that you bring it up so much, how could I resist?" He looked back to his food, mistake already forgotten due to his nature. He'd been created out of the emotion of carelessness alone, and his personality showed it.

Luna nodded and looked down the row. "Well?" There was a mass shaking of heads.

She sighed and began pushing her food about on her plate with a preoccupied look. "This is not good…"

"It might have been some dreamer's imagination creature," offered Lunatic in between bites. 

Luna looked at him as if he'd just sprouted a third eye. "Fringe, this thing wounded Hadrian. Hadrian, the very powerful hand-to-hand fighter? This was no creation of a dreamer---and if it was, then we're in serious trouble where dreamers are concerned."

"This was no dream creature," asserted Tessa from several places down, where she'd been talking with Terrance and had therefore been left out of the conversation. "It was a golem. And it's a threat."

Luna sighed, still moving the food about on her plate. "I have to start sparring lessons again today; waiting any longer isn't going to improve our glorious leader's temper, and nothing's coming up on the golem anyway."

"Can't you use the training rooms downstairs?" asked Terrance from further down the row.

The sparring instructor shook her head in frustration. "No. I've already taught them enough indoors, and they can't learn how to spar around forest growth until they're actually in it. I have to go out."

Terrance nodded, his normally excited expression now calmed into sympathy. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," she mumbled, and finally started eating.

She looked up again as the room about them grew silent. "What?"

Reala was striding down the rows towards his seat. Normally maren would not have taken notice; after all, even the Seeker General had to eat. Today, however, was different.

He walked with a forceful stride, head held high and eyes taking in everything with an icy stare. His outward appearance was no different from before, but something about his entire body posture said he expected to receive fearful respect. The entire Dining Hall gave it to him.

He dropped into his seat, muscular legs folded gracefully in casual relaxation, and tapped the marble table-top with a set of golden claws. Two maren who worked in the kitchen hurried to serve him, and the rest of the crowd turned back to their own business.

Tessa whistled low. "Looks like someone's got a fresh dose of attitude."

Terrance nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. "Did you see how he just dropped into his chair like that? Man, I wish I could look that cool when I sit down…"

Tessa smirked as she lifted a bite to her lips. "Never knew you were a connoisseur of sitting styles."

"Neither did I." Lunatic looked up at the sparring instructor sitting across from him. "What's up, Luna?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing." She shook her head. "I just got this sudden chill for a moment…must be in a draft."

Jackle staggered out onto his balcony, feeling exhausted after a night of restless sleep. AC flew after him, lighting on the balcony railing and hopping over a few spaces to make room for Jackle. The demi-maren slumped, leaning on the metal weakly, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the cool railing. AC eyed him worriedly but made no verbal comment. Jackle, when he spoke, did not look up from his slump on the railing. "I had the strangest dreams last night…we're not supposed to have dreams, AC. But I had a lot… They were all dark, and I kept finding myself being chased by a giant shadow…and no matter what I did I couldn't escape from it…"

He trailed off, and there was silence for a time; then Jackle spoke again. "I'm not the way I should be, AC."

The crow cawed questioningly. Jackle lifted his head slowly to gaze dully down at the land around them."Everything's all wrong. I can't control my emotions---every time something unexpected comes up I either lose it completely or act way too bold. I feel so unbalanced. It's like I don't control myself any more. It's like---well, like I'm not me! I just---you know---I'm not."

He paused; one of his hands gripped into a fist. "Not to mention I look like a _freak_!"

AC cawed protestingly. Jackle looked down at his avian friend with a smile that was unsettlingly touched with cynicism. "Yes, you would say that. But I do, AC, I do---there's no getting around that. I just have to learn to live with it, that's all."

He straightened, now supporting himself with his arms, hands folded as he looked out over the dreamscape again; the smile was still there. "I'll just learn to laugh, that's all," he mused quietly. "Like the voices said. I'll just learn to laugh."

AC eyed him worriedly. Jackle's voice became more amused and cheerful as he continued. "I'll laugh in their faces, that's what I'll do. It worked for Clawz, it'll work for everyone. You'll see. I'll laugh at everything! I'll answer to no one, I'll do what I want to do! Ha!"

The laugh broke out harshly, as if it were breaking through tradition and the rules wrapped about him. It felt so freeing, he laughed again. And again.

AC bowed his head, onyx eyes shining with sorrow, as the demi-maren continued to laugh, letting himself free of the fear that had kept him silent. He'd hoped this would never happen.

Jackle stopped suddenly, eyes widening. "What was…that all about?" he questioned meekly.

His companion looked up at him with an undecipherable gaze. Jackle blinked, trying to focus---why had everything gotten so blurry for a moment?---and when he spoke his voice was like a child's, innocent and confused. "What was I laughing about?"

The crow did not answer him. He blinked again, looked about as if he were re-establishing what his surroundings were, and then stood straight. "Guess I just needed to laugh a little. Felt good, you know. Well, see you later, AC."

AC bobbed his head in response, spreading out his wings in a small version of a bow. Jackle smiled and returned the gesture, cape fluttering about him gracefully, and then turned and went out.

On the balcony, AC closed his eyes sorrowfully. It wouldn't take much more pressure to snap such a fragile mind.

Perhaps it was already breaking.

"All right, who's ready?"

There was a chorus of stomps as every maren straightened, stamping their feet against the ground to be as perfectly straight as possible. Luna walked down the row, nodding. "Yes…yes…straighten up a touch, please, Starlight…yes…good."

Aster looked up fearfully as the sparring instructor came to her. "Please, Miss Luna, my pike's broken!" she hurried to insert before her teacher could speak. "That's why I don't have a weapon!"

Luna paused, then smiled. "I know, Aster, you're going to use mine today."

"Really? Still?" Aster looked about ready to faint from excitement.

"Of course---you didn't think I'd forget, did you?" She smiled, adding on a word of teacherly comment as she continued on down the line. "And as a word of advice: when you're having inspection, don't jump in and tell the inspector why something's wrong. Wait for them to ask you."

"Yes, Miss Luna, I'm sorry!"

NiGHTS strolled into the weapons chamber, hands in his pockets. The weapons hanging on the walls and piled against the corners reflected back at him as he passed, giving the room an intricate violet pattern.

"Looking for me?" called Morgen, peering out at the nightmaren leader from behind a stack of barrels.

NiGHTS nodded and moved up, looking down at the silver-haired maren quizzically. "What are you doing back there?"

"Searching for something," answered Morgen cheerfully. "I can't find---bingo!"

He got up, holding what looked to be a mound of dust in one hand and brushing himself off with the other. "I had a girl come through here looking for this, and I thought I'd help her out a bit…"

The mound of dust puffed into the air as he blew on it, revealing a silver clasp. It was very pretty; no doubt its owner had been heartbroken.

Morgen smiled in a satisfied way and slipped the lost item into a pocket, making a mental note to give it back to its owner later on. Then he looked at NiGHTS. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Just wanted to get Star," replied NiGHTS.

Lucky Star was his sword. Amaranth had forged it especially for him, making the blade out of the finest metal he could find and wrapping the grip in soft black leather. A purple stone shone from the hilt.

Morgen had, after admiring it rapturously, insisted that NiGHTS give it a name; all good swords had names, he claimed. A leader's sword wouldn't be complete without a name!

NiGHTS, after giving him a weird look, had promised he'd give his sword a title to go by. It took him more than a day to find one he liked; for some reason the naming of a sword felt like a very important matter. It certainly seemed important to Morgen. 

After thinking for quite some time, he finally decided upon Lucky Star. He didn't know why, as he knew perfectly well that there was no such thing as a star that controlled peoples' fates, but he liked the sound of it all the same. Ergo Lucky Star it was. Morgen was delighted with the name.

Now Morgen smiled, hurrying to the spot where he knew his leader's weapon would be. He lifted it from it's place on the wall carefully, bowing to NiGHTS as he presented it hilt-first. "Your sword, my prince."

"You don't have to bow, I could have gotten it myself, and I'm not a prince," replied NiGHTS, smiling just a bit.

"Ah, but you are, in a way," smiled Morgen, giving him a knowing look. "You're our leader, aren't you? And it wouldn't be proper not to bow."

"Stupid properness," muttered NiGHTS, his annoyed expression melting into a content look as he pulled Lucky Star from it's black leather sheath. The blade shone in the weapon chamber's dim light, and its grip felt soft and comfortable in his palm. He was beginning to truly love his sword, even though he'd only been learning how to use it for a short time.

Breathing a sigh of contentment, NiGHTS slipped it back into its sheath and then attached it to his belt. "Thanks."

"Of course. Anything else I could do for you?"

"No, that's all. See you." 

Morgen bowed. "Farewell, my prince. It has been my pleasure to serve you."

NiGHTS gave him a strange look before smiling amusedly and leaving.

As soon as the violet-clad nightmaren was gone, Morgen changed. His expression of cheerfulness morphed to one of concern, and his formerly bright, athletic pose slipped into a more thoughtful posture. 

"Well that was odd," he commented to the walls as he began the daily tasks of polishing and cleaning. "Whatever had him so worked up? He was so worried and burden-laden and filled with heavy responsibility and dark thoughts you could practically taste it! Now I know you couldn't," he added to the sword he was polishing, "But I know more about body language than most. He has something awfully heavy on his mind, I can tell you. I wonder what it is?"

Reala watched from a window as a large group left the castle. It looked to be mostly filled with younger nightmaren; come to think of it, that was Miss Luna at the front, wasn't it? So she was taking them out on a sparring course---finally. He snorted. She certainly took her sweet time about it.

He blinked as another maren left shortly after, also heading for Mystic Forest; as he focused on the lone figure, his temper rose. Purple clothing, agile build, very fast. His brother NiGHTS.

He growled, slamming his fist against the windowsill. Wasn't that air-head even going to help him out a little after playing hooky all of yesterday? 

_'So you just shove all of the work on me and then go off and play your play,'_ he thought angrily. _'Just like all of the other High Seekers! Fine, then, go ahead and play! I'll take control of this army and whip them into shape all by myself---and I'll be the perfect general Wizeman wants. I promise you that, NiGHTS. I _will_ be the perfect nightmaren leader. And no one's going to stand in my way.'_

"Lord Jackle, sir?"

Jackle looked up from his book, annoyed at being disturbed in the middle of a very interesting passage. "What is it?"

"Lord Wizeman wishes to speak to you, sir," explained the young maren quietly. "You and Lord Reala have both been summoned to his throne room."

Jackle's entire body stiffened. He swallowed, forcing his voice to keep from breaking. "Very well. You are dismissed."

The young boy bowed and went out, leaving Jackle alone in the library once more. As soon as he was made aware of this fact, the demi-maren broke down.

_'What am I going to do?'_ he thought desperately. _'Master wants to speak to me, how am I going to hide it from him? He'll see right through me! Master always does!'_

He shuddered, wrapping his arms about his stomach in an effort to sate the raging sickness of fear he felt inside. Knowing he could not delay the summons, he stood, wavering towards the door with an uncertain step, his mind filled with babbling thoughts. _'He'll see right through me, what will I do? What does he want? Does he know already? He knows! Master knows! He'll see right through me and he'll know!'_

"Nobody can know," he whispered desperately, even as he moved slowly towards the room he feared more than any other place. "I've got a secret, and now someone will know!"

Luna's senses were working at full power. Every crack of a stick being broken underfoot, every snap of a branch bent back, every mutter of a bramble-scratched student was heard. The latter came more than once, as they were currently in the middle of a blackberry patch.

She sighed as someone complained, making it about the fiftieth time that day. "Ow! Stupid thorns…"

Another sound came to her ears, and she halted, jerking her hand up as a signal to stop. The collective group held their breath.

After a minute or so, after nothing else had been heard of the strange sound, Luna made the motion to continue. As they walked, she could hear someone muttering to a classmate. 

"Miss Luna's acting like this is a scouting mission or something!"

"I heard she was worried about that rumor of a golem," murmured someone else.

"But how are we supposed to learn to spar if we can't even stop walking on tip-toe?" returned the first.

Luna sighed. They were right; this was being absolutely absurd. But she couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched…

The conversation cut off abruptly as she halted, hand held up for silence, eyes darting about nervously. She'd heard it again. A quiet, soft, almost squishing sound, from somewhere slightly behind and to the left.

Finally someone worked up the courage to ask, "Miss Luna, what is it?"

The sparring instructor answered quietly. "I've heard something twice now. Every time we stop, it does, too. Stay quiet and follow me."

The students, made slightly more solemn by the quiet rumors of monsters, followed her instructions without question.

They continued on for some time without hearing the mysterious noise again; the group was just beginning to loosen up a little when they all heard it. Squish, gulp.

The entire group stopped, and most of the younger maren looked about wildly. Luna, however, was looking straight at her students. "You!"

The boy she had pointed out started. "Yes ma'am?"

"You're eating blackberries."

The boy nodded. "Uh, yes ma'am, I thought that would be all right since we're walking right through them…"

Luna sighed. "Eat another."

The boy's eyebrows raised quizzically, but he did as told, trying to ignore the many stares that were now directed his way. For good measure he ate two. Squish, gulp.

Luna groaned and turned around, continuing on. "Come on. And no more blackberries, any of you."

Jackle stared up at the imposing iron doors in front of him, his heart beating loudly in his ears. He tried to force himself to calm down, to think clearly; his emotions refused to listen. _'Where are those voices when you need them?'_ he thought desperately.

He looked around the hall. Where was Reala? Should he wait for him? Was he already inside? He didn't want to go in there alone! But Wizeman was waiting---he had to.

Hovering nervously, Jackle whimpered as he tried to bury his secret deep within the back of his mind. It was hard.

Reala strode down the hall, paces firm and even, head high. Maren moved out of his way as he came through, filing back to their former positions to stare at their leader. He exuded a strength that showed through even his gait. No one dared speak to him.

He was perfectly aware of the fear he caused. He'd never had this kind of power over their feelings before, the ability to demand respect merely by walking by. It was as if he was the one thing they feared most---and fear was respect. They respected him with all their souls.

He loved it.

The shadows of the hall fell away as the walls widened out, making the space in front of Wizeman's room larger than that of the other rooms on the second floor. It was a slight psychological trick; one Reala had no need to heed. He was Lord Wizeman's perfect general, wasn't he? There was no need for his ruler to be angry with him.

In front of the door, highlighted by the torches that served as light sources in the windowless hallway, Jackle cowered. He was bent down, his back shuddering, one hand pressed half-longingly, half-fearfully against the cold iron of the door. Looking close, Reala could swear he saw a tear well up in the demi-maren's eye.

"What are you sobbing about?" he demanded, striding up to stand by the card-thrower.

Jackle started violently and jerked his head up, golden-green eyes filled with fear. "Wasn't crying master, wasn't!"

Reala blinked. It was a very old habit of Jackle's to slip into broken English if he was scared; not just frightened, but terrified and near hysterics. "Master" also came up in his sentences quite a bit. The demi-maren was terrified.

_'Why?'_ He stared down at Jackle, who seemed just as startled by his own outburst of hysterics; he gulped in air, pressing a gloved hand against his chest to try and calm himself. Reala couldn't comprehend it. _'Why is he so frightened? Wizeman is our master, he won't needlessly hurt us. Is he remembering the perfection process? That wasn't needless pain, the fool! That was for our own benefit!'_

Swallowing, Jackle tried to speak, his voice dry and thick-sounding. "I---master's waiting, Reala." And with that he turned around and pushed at the doors.

"Fool!" This time Reala said the name out loud as he grabbed Jackle's shoulder, pulling the demi-maren back with a jerk. "Knock, idiot!"

Jackle gasped, having forgotten that not to knock was a sign of disrespect. He looked up at Reala, intending to thank him for the reminder; and stopped cold.

Reala was glaring down at him like some fury of the night, his deathly pale face framed by a circling of red and black, his blue eyes filled with annoyance and anger. There was none of the lurking sympathy or kindness that had always been there before, hidden deep in a forget-me-not haze. Now his stare was ice.

Jackle swallowed, taking a stumbling step or two back, and then turning around in a hurry to knock. The sound echoed through the hallway. He stood silent, trembling slightly, surrounded by fear. In front of him was an interrogation he was deathly afraid of, behind him a stare like a dagger of ice burned into his back. He gritted his teeth and hoped it would all just smooth over.

A deceptively calm voice answered their intrusion of sound. "Enter."

They did as told, Reala stalking in with an almost feline grace, Jackle skittering along in quick steps like a frightened fawn. He wished he were behind Reala, to have some sort of physical barrier between himself and the hulking stone being in front of them, but he didn't dare just turn around and hide behind the general. He stood as straight as possible, fingers twitching nervously.

Wizeman gazed down at him, his hands floating languidly. Silently he inspected them both. His improved servants were shaping up nicely; Jackle looked frightening, a floating smile and devilishly flashing eyes framed by a flaming cape, and Reala---Reala was perfect. He stood tall, not with the ramrod straightness of a soldier but with the relaxed, powerful stance of someone who knew they could beat anyone who crossed them, and would do it too. His face was nightmarishly wonderful, a handsome visage tweaked a little here and there to become a dark being. His eyes---yes. That was the true test. Reala's eyes were cold, not only with the hue Wizeman had forced them to take on, but with true determination to succeed. Reala had taken on his position as the general of nightmares. He was perfect.

Whilst on the subject of eyes, Wizeman took a look at Jackle's; and was resultantly disturbed. The demi-maren's eyes were flickering about, jumping up to look at his master before scurrying around the room again. Jackle's eyes were large and deep, and very emotive; his emotions showed in his eyes more than any other maren Wizeman could remember. Their deep green flecked with gold seemed to almost change color with his mood. At the moment they were unending wells of fear.

Wizeman frowned. Was Jackle still so horribly unnerved by his improvements? Such psychological scarring had not been expected…

He spoke, noticing their relief when the long silence and inspection was broken. "Have you adjusted to your improvements?"

Reala smiled, satisfaction and pride in his icy gaze. Jackle nodded his head quickly. Perhaps it wasn't the improvements that were the source of his unease, then.

Wizeman's eyes directed themselves towards Reala, showing who he was addressing. "Are you pleased with them?"

Reala bowed low, muscles rippling under the black and white of his costume. "Perfect, my lord. Absolutely perfect. Your inspiration and handiwork still fill me with awe."

Wizeman smiled. Obviously Reala loved his new appearance; the power he was finding he had gave him much pleasure. This one could very well be considered done.

The other, however…Wizeman's eyes focused on Jackle, noting the way the demi-maren shrank back, flinching as the stony gaze was fixed upon his face. "And you, Jackle?"

"It's perfect, master," he managed, his voice high and wavery. Wizeman noted the pronoun 'master' with disappointment. Obviously Jackle was still adapting to being different; but the 'master' said that something else was going on. He only spoke that way when he was frightened, and trying to avoid being hurt. Why was he afraid of being hurt?

One of the hands waved casually, gesturing for Reala to leave. "Very well. You have done well as my general, Reala; I am immensely pleased. You are perfect. You may go."

Reala straightened and bowed deeply, a dark joy running through his veins at his ruler's words. He truly was perfect.

"Thank you, Lord Wizeman," he said, his voice strong and echoing in the dark chamber. "I promise I will continue to serve you to the best of my ability."

Wizeman nodded, acknowledging the oath. "Dismissed."

He held up a hand as Jackle turned to follow the Seeker General. "Not you, Jackle. We still have something to speak about."


	9. Rolling Thunder

~AN~ AC: Hello. Since Avis is still out cold, we muses will be hosting the author's note again.

Voice From A Nearby Closet: OUT COLD, MY FOOT! LEMME OUTTA HERE!!

AC: Go gag her, Bass.

Bass: *grabs Insomnia's bandanna; heads for the closet*

Insomnia: My bandanna!!

AC: Ahem. AN-yway, about the author's note. No Nightmaren Theory today, as Avis can't write a theory when she's out cold…

Nearby Closet: *wham wham wham* MMM-MMMMFF!!!

AC: So we can't give you a theory. We can, however, offer something else. Have you ever wondered what size the diamonds on Insomnia's clothes were? Ever wondered how long Corbeau's cape is? Ever wonder what the patterns on RagDoll's face look like? Yeah, so have I…

Bass: *whap*

AC: Ow---joke, Bass, joke. Anyway, after searching rabidly for a scanner, Avis finally found a store nearby that would scan her things for a reasonable price---

Nearby Closet: REASONABLE, HECK!! THAT COST ME ALL MY ALLOWANCE!!!

AC: I thought you gagged her.

Bass: She chewed through it.

Insomnia: MY BANDANNA?!

AC: Ahem. FOR A REASONABLE PRICE, she was able to scan her things. While Avis is not an artist, she does like sketching, and therefore finding a place to post her drawings was quite exciting for her. Ergo, if you want to see pictures of these characters as a visual aid, go to the following address.

Insomnia: *holds up sign*

Sign: 

AC: Enjoy. Now, on with the story.

Nearby Closet: IF YOU DON'T LEMME OUTTA HERE YOU JERK, I'M GONNA WHAP YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF!!!

Disclaimer: "I love bananas, la la la la la la!"---Jackle

__

Now that I have your voice by heart, I read

In the black chords upon a dulling page

Music that is not meant for music's cage,

Whose emblems mix with words that shake and bleed.

The staves are shuttled over with a stark

Unprinted silence. In a double dream

I must spell out the storm, the running stream.

The beat's too swift. The notes shift in the dark.

Song For The Last Act, by Louise Bogan

_Chapter Nine:_

Rolling Thunder

Deep within Mystic Forest, a branch snapped.

It fell to the ground, severed neatly in half by one swift slash of a sword. Another twig was snicked off the same low-growing tree, getting identical treatment to that its fellow branch had received before falling to the ground as well. Several more followed in quick succession.

NiGHTS halted, letting his sword hand relax and hang at his side as he inspected the twigs. Good, good, slightly off, okay, good---really bad. He winced looking at the last one---it had been barely cut, only the very tip falling away from a blow that was meant to sever it in half. He'd been a good five inches off.

He sighed. Still, three good blows out of six wasn't that bad. With a little more practice maybe he could get rid of that stupid habit of his to cut too far to the right.

Sheathing Lucky Star with ease, he kicked at the severed twigs, watching as they flew up with assorted leaves and other forest-floor rubbish to float down again in a dirty sprinkling. Then another kick unearthed something interesting. He bent down to have a closer look.

It was hidden under some recently-fallen leaves, ones that really couldn't have been there for more than a day or two judging from how unsoiled they were. He brushed them aside gently to reveal a footprint, pressed neatly in the damp dirt.

Not that footprints were of any great interest, as everything from Nightopians to Minions to First Class nightmaren would come through Mystic Forest and all left footprints when they weren't flying; however NiGHTS had set himself to learn the ways of the forest, and therefore tracking was something he jumped at the chance to practice at. Whatever it was had left the print too long ago to try and follow its trail, but he could certainly try to identify it.

Then he realized something was different. The print was entirely round, cupping into the earth like a ball, and it was topped by a sharp point a little above the edge of the oval mark. What on earth made that kind of footprint? NiGHTS stared at it, tracing the edges and trying to think, his attention particularly focusing on the sharp tip above the large oval. Then an unsettling suspicion tapped him on the shoulder.

He got up slowly, looking down carefully at the ground. It was covered in a light dusting of footprints from his stick-slashing, but they were all on top of the scattered leaves covering the forest floor. This print had been under the leaves. He began to scrape them away with his foot, noting a slight depression in the surface of the ground with apprehension.

The leaves cleared away to reveal a large, oddly-shaped, generally circular indent in the earth, topped by three ovals which were in their turn topped by sharp points. The entire thing was slightly bigger than his head.

He swallowed, realizing what he was seeing but not sure as to what had actually made it. It was a giant, dog-like footprint.

Meaning somewhere in the vicinity was a reeeeeeeeally big dog.

Jackle's heart gave a horrified jump at Wizeman's words. _'Oh shards he's going to speak to me alone---no, Reala, please! I can't face him by myself!'_

Reala looked back to hear his master's last words and caught sight of Jackle's expression. The demi-maren's eyes were wide in pure, almost animalistic fear, his body tensed as if he were about to throw himself against the walls just to escape. A brief memory touched his mind, of Jackle before his improvements, flinging himself against the walls of a cage he didn't even know were there, pummeling himself against the bars in blind panic. The look in his eyes now said that if he had to stay here much longer he might do it again. His emerald eyes were silently pleading for Reala to stay, to at least state that he'd wait outside. Anything. 

Turning, Reala stalked out.

Jackle nearly cried out as Reala turned away, face set into stone. _'No!'_

A strong voice spoke, its words echoing around him in the empty spaces of the throne room. "Face me, Jackle."

Slowly he turned around, feeling his skin twitch erratically from the amounts of fear and adrenaline rushing through his system. Wizeman looked down at him emotionlessly. "What is it that frightens you?"

"N-nothing, master." _'I can't tell you.'_

"Nothing?"

"Yes, master, n-nothing." _'I can't tell anyone…'_

"You are trembling, Jackle."

"I'm cold." He was. _'I can't tell!'_

"Something else is making you afraid. I can see the fear in your eyes."

"I'm j-just a bit nervous over an-nother improvement, master." _'I know I secret, and I can't tell!'_

"Really?"

"Yes, master…I'm sorry, master." _'I know a secret, I know a secret…'_

"No matter. But is that all that frightens you?"

"Yes master." _'I know a secret, and no one can know!'_

Wizeman fell silent, gazing at Jackle with a penetrating stare. Finally he spoke.

"You're lying."

"L-lying, master?" _'He knows!'_

"You did not feel this afraid after the improvements, and there is no reason for you to suffer a sudden relapse now."

_'He knows the secret!'_

A hand descended from the shadows around, one single stone finger pressing itself against the demi-maren's forehead. "I did not plan upon doing this, Jackle, but you force me to question your loyalty."

And a wave broke over his mind, exploding into twining ropes of light that tore apart every thought he'd ever had.

It was cold.

The young maren in the middle of their sparring lesson shivered. Luna glanced up at the small patches of sky visible through the sheltering foliage; it was overcast, with low, threatening clouds scuttling across the sky like many frightened sheep. Winds blew through the branches, pushing her tangled hair against her face. She brushed at it, preoccupied, trying to judge whether it would rain or not. She couldn't tell.

"Miss Luna?" Aster looked up at her, teeth gritted from the chill that was breathing on the wind. She was struggling valiantly to stand tall and unaffected, like her idol, but she was failing. "Are you all right?"

Luna nodded. "Yes. Don't worry, everyone, only a few more rounds to go and we'll head back."

There was a muted cheer at this statement, and the groups got into their assigned positions. Aster, however, gave her teacher a worried glance as she went to her spot; she could tell some larger threat was eating at Luna's mind.

But if Miss Luna didn't want to share, then of course she knew best. She probably had a very important reason. Consoling herself with that thought, she wrapped her arms about her chest, cradling the borrowed lance to her.

It was cold.

Reala marched along the row of nightmaren, hands folded behind his back, his glance taking in everything. This was one of the few classes that he himself had taken over; this was the first Power Division, Power standing for hand-to-hand fighters, the strongmen of the army. Reala had a special place in his heart for these.

That didn't mean he was nice to them. On the contrary this, along with the second Power Division, was rumored to be one of the most difficult classes.

The maren, mostly males, all stood tall as Reala stalked by them, inspecting their stance. Finally he nodded. "Very good. Space out."

The maren moved instantly, every other one stepping forward to make two larger-spaced lines, rather than the one long row used for inspection. Reala nodded again. "Right."

The fighters responded with a sharp right punch.

"Left."

They did as told.

"One two."

Two punches, one right, one left.

"Good. Twenty push-ups, go!"

They dropped to their knees, following his command. He watched closely, picking out the ones who tired faster than the others. These, along with the ones who seemed to have less coordination, were filed away in the rows of his memory under 'to keep an eye on'.

The nightmaren finished their push-ups and leaped up, straightening to attention once more. Reala allowed them a small smile. "Very good. Dismissed."

The fighters broke up their formation to head for the door, walking in file. He knew that once they reached the hallway they would break into a run and become a yelling group of kids again, but for the time they were compelled to take class they had been exceedingly good.

_'Now if only the rest of them were like that,' _he muttered to himself mentally, beginning his own round of push-ups to pass the five minutes before the next class he was to teach. _'Half of the idiots can't even control their weapons…'_

He sighed and shoved himself up to begin a series of hand-stand push-ups. _'They'll learn, though. I'll make sure of that.'_

NiGHTS was following the trail. The dog-like thing, whatever it was, had left clear markings for someone who knew what to look for, and although NiGHTS was not the most experienced tracker around he knew enough to manage.

A small glen shrouded by ferns had been its bed; the indentation in the earth told him that. A side route had been made to the Windingwater to drink before returning to its original path. A deeper set of prints told him it had broke into a run; a bit further on he came upon the remains of a Gao.

He stopped, staring at the small bits of bloody fur and bone. What creature would eat a Gao?

Moments later he was on the trail again, going as fast as he could now. Whatever this thing was, it was dangerous. And there could be people out there…

A boy, lifting his mace in order to try and strike his 'enemy', paused at the last moment.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?" asked his sparring partner.

"That. It sounded kind of like branches cracking underfoot or something, like a really big animal, you know?…"

Jackle screamed out, hands clutching the sides of his head as a consciousness stronger than his own ripped through his mind. He could feel strikes of crimson lightening flashing through his memories, innumerable tiny, dark hands sifting through them and tossing them away without a thought. He screamed again, tears pouring out of blind eyes.

The hands kept searching, inspecting every memory the lightening dragged from his mind. He clung to the shreds of his thoughts, trying to keep himself together; the lightening burned him, forcing him to pull back in pain, and the hands calmly continued on with their work. He wept as every private thought and memory he'd ever had was brought to the harsh light of the crimson lightening, fingered by countless dark hands, and thrown aside as worthless. His psyche was being torn apart from the inside out.

Finally the hands seemed to find what they wanted, for they made the lightening stop ripping him and circle, waiting for the command to begin again should the hands wish it. But the hands didn't; they were still, studying the piece of memory that they had found. Jackle knew instinctively what it was; after all, it was his own thought. They were looking at the memory of the night he found out about the two Courage Ideya. It was his secret.

He saw them tremble as if they were trying desperately to conceal rage. The lightening forked eagerly, awaiting the command to punish him for his secret sin. The hands ignored it, and Jackle watched them slowly fold up the memory, folding it into halves, quarters, smaller and smaller and smaller. Then, they deliberately ripped it in half.

He screamed, feeling the memory that had already been ripped from him suddenly tear, burning a white flash across his mind. The hands repeated the action, ripping the memory to smaller and smaller pieces, tearing it to shreds. They watched silently as he writhed in agony, every tear sending a blinding scream of pain across his mind like a mental whip.

He screamed once more, then fell silent as the hands stopped tearing. They held up the remains of his memory for him to see; shreds of thought, terribly small and ragged.

He watched dully as they opened, letting the pieces fall to float gently down and land silently on the floor that wasn't there. He could see words written on some of them, remains of his thoughts. They were written in his blood.

_It is strange Wizeman knows nothing…upon the Courage Ideya…the hundred years' convergence…Just run. Run!…I know a secret you don't know, I know a secret that you don't know!…Once every hundred years…run!…I know a secret, and no one can know!_

The lightening flashed furiously, forking angry tongues of crimson and black. But the hands were calm. They stayed open, gesturing silently at the shredded pieces of memory, not accusing him, but rather voicelessly asking him if he admitted to his crime. He bowed his head in shame and pain, tears streaming out of useless eyes to drip into the nothingness that was the universe around them. And there was silence.

They left. Just like that, they left, slipping away like wraiths of mist on a summer's dawn, fading into nothing before the eye can blink. He was left standing alone in the corridors of his mind, surrounded by violated and discarded thoughts, and the destroyed memory of that night.

He was alone.


	10. Foreboding: An Ill Wind BLows

*various sounds of an argument*

AC: I TOLD you to paint the address on the sign, you moron!  


Insomnia: I thought you were talking to Bass!!

AC: BASS WAS IN ANOTHER ROOM!!

Insomnia: HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!

AC: LOOK AROUND, YOU MORON!!

Bass: *groan* I'm surrounded by idiots.

AC: *whirls on him* And what about you? Why didn't you mention that we didn't put up the address for Avis' pictures?

Bass: Like I would care?

All Three: *begin squabbling*

Juno: Excuse me?

Trio: *continue arguing*

Juno: Pardon me?

Trio: *continue arguing*

Juno: *holds out hand; blows door off hinges*

AC: …Avis ain't gonna like that.

Juno: Pardon me?

AC: What?

Juno: I just put up the address.

AC: …you did?

Juno: Yes. It will show up within twenty-four hours.

AC: Oh. What about the people who will read the story tonight?

Juno: Here it is, then. .

AC: Oh. Okay. I guess that's all we need to do, then.

Ahem.

AC: …oh. Hi, Avis. How'd you get out?

Juno just blew up the door, moron.

AC: Oh yeah.

I'm gonna kick you two out the window.

Bass: Yeah right. *flees*

AC: No you're not. *flees*

*leaves to chase Bass and AC*

Juno: *listening to chaos in the background* And everything's back to normal. We apologize for the inconvenience of the missing address; I am now going to put up another chapter to make it up to you. Thank you for your patience.

Disclaimer: "RABID AUTHOR ON THE LOOSE!!!" *crash wham*---AC

__

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world;

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity. 

The Second Coming, by W. B. Yeats

_Chapter Ten: _

Foreboding: An Ill Wind Blows

Aster halted mid-motion, as did the rest of the training students. "What was…"

Luna tensed, staring into the trees. And the sound came again. A low, throaty growl, like a dog about to leap upon an intruding enemy.

They barely had time to scatter before a giant dog the size of Gillwing, eyes glowing red and skin like stone, crashed through the leaves to land snarling in their midst.

Its dagger-length claws swept out in angry slashes, and nightmaren were thrown back with screams. Luna rolled over from where she had thrown herself, staring up at the monstrosity through tangled hair. Her eyes widened.

"A golgoth," she whispered. "It's a golgoth!"

Instantly she was on her feet, shouting above the cries of the students around her as the monster leapt for Emil, scenting the still-healing wound; the boy dove headfirst out of the way, taking to the trees for safety. "Everyone, scatter!" she bellowed, praying that their training would stay with them in the moment of terror. "Get back to the castle _now_!"

A scream brought her eyes back to the monster, which had pinned a young girl under its claws and was about to deal a crushing blow to her head. 

The blow was averted by another girl---the young maren Nyct, who was fanatically devoted to hand-to-hand fighting and had been forced to join the swordsmen ranks by Reala. She plunged her unwanted weapon into the golgoth's foot, managing by a stroke of luck to strike in between the armor-plated skin where the toe connected to the foot. The momentary pain distracted the golgoth enough for the other girl to roll out and take for the trees.

Nyct shot backwards, anticipating in advance a blow that came two seconds later. Had she not dodged, she doubtless would have lost an arm; as it was the blow caught her by the flesh of her hand and sent her crashing into a tree. The golgoth advanced, snarling, dribbles of pebble drool dripping from its mouth.

Luna dropped in front of the dazed and wounded Nyct, shouting as she did. "Someone, get her out of here!"

Taking Nyct's abandoned sword, she charged directly at the golgoth, swerving to the right at the last moment and aiming a slash that was meant to aggravate, not wound. 

It did its work. The monster dog turned, following her in a blind rage. She dove into the trees, shooting out again slightly higher up and beginning a game of dodge and tease with the golgoth. Behind the sparring pair, Nyct looked up to see Insomnia drop in front of her, giving her a wink as he flipped her over his shoulders. "Sorry about it not being that comfortable," he called out as he took off into the woods, "but I kind of have to hurry!"

"Shut up and fly!" she retorted, not being able to think of anything else to say. He obliged.

Around them nightmaren beat their way through the woods, trying to obey their teacher's order to head for the castle. Several stayed behind, crouching over wounded friends or circling the clearing helplessly to watch the fight going on inside.

Luna was beginning to tire. The monster was absolutely inexhaustible, never allowing her a moment's time to get a breath, and it was beginning to tell. A stray blow that had managed to catch her check dripped fast, dying her face with a delicate pattern of red. She wiped at it as she dove down, flipping between the golgoth's legs to come out the other side and head for the woods again. 

But the monster had begun to take notice of her tactics. When she headed for the woods it was ready, and a stunning blow sent her tumbling to the ground.

She moaned, looking up through blurry vision at a giant stone monster bearing down on her.

"Oh, drat," she muttered, and closed her eyes.

"MISS LUNA!"

Aster landed in front of her, meeting the charging golgoth head on with her borrowed lance. 

The point went straight into the golgoth's mouth, piercing the back of its neck from the inside to break out behind. The monster roared, flicking its head up in pain as it tried to dislodge the weapon rammed into its neck. 

Aster swallowed and turned to her teacher, ignoring the giant thing pawing frenziedly beside her. "Miss Luna, are you all right? Please be all right, you have to! Miss Luna!"

Luna's eyes opened slowly, and she stared at the girl. "Don't just stand there, get moving!"

Aster jumped up, grabbing her teacher's shoulders in an effort to drag her away. Luna groaned and swatted at the girl's hands, trying to make Aster drop her. "No, run! I'll take care of myself!"

"No!" Aster looked back just in time to see the golgoth, lance still lodged in its mouth and eyes now flaming red in anger, head for them. "Miss Luna, run!"

She shoved her teacher out of the way, lingering a moment longer in hopes of becoming the monster's main target; then she fled.

Her momentary pause had worked, and too well. The monster abandoned Luna, who was near fainting, to charge after Aster. The pause had given it an advantage, and its paw swept out.

Luna lifted her head up just in time to see Aster go flying, crashing into a tree with a sickening crunch. The girl fell to the ground and did not move again.

Luna's eyes widened. "Aster!"

The golgoth went for the now motionless girl, but halted and flicked its head towards the woods as a cry rang out. 

A purple form came streaking out of the trees, heading for the golgoth at an incredible speed, a shining blade clutched tight in its left hand. NiGHTS.

The golgoth barely had time to roar at this new attacker before Lucky Star drove itself between its eyes, slipping neatly under the chink in the armor on its forehead and continuing on in. The monster's scream was horrible.

NiGHTS thrust himself back, Lucky Star dripping red and rust, the golgoth following him with snapping jaws. It lunged, failed to strike, and continued on down, falling to the ground to writhe in pain for a moment before settling. Everything was silent.

NiGHTS turned in mid-air. "Everyone, are you all right?" he shouted.

Various moans and whimpers answered him as teens began dribbling into the clearing from the surrounding foliage, all staring at the giant hulk of stone that lay motionless in the middle. NiGHTS' keen eyes picked out Luna, dragging herself towards a small bundle lying underneath a tree that was spattered with blood. He drew in a breath. _'Oh no…'_

Luna pulled herself up, staring down at Aster. The young maren's eyes were closed tight, and the side of her head, though the actual wound was covered by her hair, poured small rivers of red into the already soaked dirt. A small amount of blood was dribbling from her mouth and ears.

Luna bent over her, too exhausted to lift her up into her arms, and whispered. "Aster, please---it's Luna, your teacher. Please, answer me. Do anything, moan, whimper, scream, anything, just let me know you're alive!"

Aster did not react right away; then she moaned, one eye opening feebly to try and focus on her idol's face. "Miss…Luna?" she rasped, her voice horribly rough.

"Right here, Aster---just hold on, we'll get you to the Infirmary, and you'll be like new!" She lifted up her head. "Someone, get this girl to the Infirmary, NOW!"

"Miss Luna," begged Aster, sucking in a rattling breath.

"What?"

"I liked…your pike a…lot…can I use…it again…someday?…"

Luna closed her eyes, feeling tears begin to form. "Of course, Aster. You can use my---pike---any time you want."

Aster's eye filled with worshipful joy. "Oh, thank you…Miss Luna…"

And her bruised eye closed. It never saw again.


	11. This Hideous Dream

~AN~ What? The address _still _won't come up?!

AC: Yeah.

I'VE PUT UP THAT BLASTED THING AT LEAST THREE TIMES!!

Juno: Actually, to be technical, it was never put up by yourself. AC typed it once, and I did so twice.

I DON'T CARE!! What, does ffn. Have some problem with my artwork?

Bass: That's no surprise.

Juno: Actually, I believe this problem is connected to some type of stripping of certain html tags during the uploading process…

*staring at him* Wha?…

AC: Yeah, Juno, you're talking to a technological savage here.

*slaps at him* SHUT UP!!

AC: *side-steps the slap* Whoa, you're touchy.

OF COURSE I AM!!

Juno: I've posted the link to your drawings in the 'bio' section. Anyone who wishes to see them only has to click on your name above.

It came up in the bio section?

Juno: Yes, it did. I believe this has to do with---

*throwing up her arms* I don't care! I DON'T care!! Just tell the readers to read the blasted story already!!! *storms out*

AC: You heard the lady who's currently off her rocker. Read the blasted story already.

Bass: Hope you enjoy. Please point out any problems or could-be-changed spots that you notice.

Voice From Another Room: NO!! I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE CRITIQUEING!! I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE _PROBLEMS!!!_ *sob*

AC: All over a stupid link. Oi.

Bass: Actually, I think it's because she's had such a tough time lately. You know how Avis is---smile through all the big stuff and try to smooth it all over for everyone, then flip out over the smallest thing when she's sure everyone else is feeling all right. Moron.

Voice From Another Room: *weeping*

Disclaimer: "Is that why she put up another chapter before anyone even reviewed the last one? She's trying to cope?"---AC

Disclaimer Num. 2: "I AM NOT YOU JERK!!"---Voice From Another Room

__

Between the acting of a dreadful thing

And the first motion, all the interim is

Like a phantasma or a hideous dream.

Scene I, Act II of Julius Caesar_, by William Shakespeare_

_Chapter Eleven: _

This Hideous Dream

The door opened silently, its vast iron swinging inward without a sound. The two brothers came in just as silently as the door had been, their paces smooth and soft. As one, they bowed.

"You wished to see us---"

"---Lord Wizeman?"

Wizeman turned to face them, gazing down at the two black-clad figures that had responded to his call of 'guards'. "Come closer."

The two did as they were told, their expressions forcefully kept from showing fear and their body language speaking of respect. The one with curls at the corners of his eyes spoke first. "How shall we serve you?"

Wizeman gestured slowly to a bundle slumped on the floor next to him. Chink and Chank realized with a shock that it was Jackle. 

The demi-maren was sitting on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees, and was rocking back and forth. He was mumbling something under his breath.

Wizeman looked back at them. "Take him down to the lowest level and lock him up there. He will be brought before me tomorrow."

Chank took his turn answering. "As you wish, my lord."

The two moved silently to Jackle's side. Picking him up and throwing his arms about their shoulders, they left, Jackle dragging between them. Wizeman watched them go.

__

'Only two,' he mused angrily. _'Only two once every hundred years, and he deliberately decided not to tell me. In order to hide the fact that he had been going against my command already! I could kill that traitorous freak of a demi-maren…'_

He forced himself to calm down. _'I can find the date of the convergence in my library, and he is paying for his deeds now. It will be very difficult to control him, however…his mind is far too chaotic to reason with, and he is not inherently loyal. Unless having his mind torn to pieces was enough to convince him of the wisdom of obeying me…He's either more spirited than I thought, or he's mad.'_

A wry smile touched the ruler's mouth. _'And even if he wasn't, he's going to be now.'_

Varia drew in a tight breath as yet another wounded student was brought in. "Not another?!"

"Stop gaspn' and get to work!" snapped Stella, who was bandaging a boy with a broken arm as fast as she could. "Get that bowl and start cleanin' the girl next to yi', now!"

Varia complied, grimacing at the sight of blood but forcing herself to keep working. She hated blood, and right now she was surrounded by it. But these maren---some of which were close friends---needed her.

There was a bang as the door was kicked open, and Insomnia stood in the entryway, carrying Nyct over his shoulders. He nodded his head breathlessly to Stella, and then asked, without preamble, "Where do I put her?" 

Stella jerked her head over towards an empty bed on her right, and Insomnia went over, bending down to very carefully deposit Nyct on the bed. He got up, breathing hard, and then blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry about having to carry you upside down like that---I knew I couldn't fly with you in front of me, so I kind of had to carry you on my shoulders…"

Nyct grinned wearily. "No prob. I understand. But…" She trailed off. "The others, do you think?…"

Insomnia' eyes opened wide. "There's probably more people who need to be carried out of there! See ya!" And with that he was out, gone with a flash of red bandanna.

Stella shook her head, tsking as she began opening a makeshift bandage that had been placed on a wound during the flight back to the castle. "That boy ought to know not to run in th' halls…"

Varia, had she been her brother Strix, would have laughed. As it was she merely whimpered worriedly and continued her work.

NiGHTS landed in the courtyard of Nightmare Castle, and was instantly greeted by Tessa and Terrance.

"What's going on?" demanded Terrance. "You were attacked by the golem?"

"No time to talk," wheezed NiGHTS, depositing his burden of an unconscious girl. "There's more still trying to make it back---get out there and help them!"

Tessa nodded her comprehension. Terrance, being the active one, bounded up into the air with a war whoop. "Yes sir right away sir!" And he was off like a rocket. Tessa followed, albeit quietly.

NiGHTS, seeing several other maren coming out into the courtyard in curiosity, gestured them over with authority. "You, all of you! Yes, YOU! Get out there and head straight for Mystic Forest, flying low---there are wounded maren out there, and they need assistance! Get moving!"

The gathered crowd of ten or eleven, after blinking confusedly for a second or two, all straightened, saluted, and took off with a chorus of 'yes sir's. NiGHTS sighed in relief and picked up the unconscious girl, heading for the Infirmary.

He shoved in, acting much as Insomnia had only a short time ago. "Where do I put this girl?"

Stella jerked her head to the side to indicate an empty bed, never even looking up. "There. Varia, tend to the new one! That balm can wait until later!"

Varia abandoned her task of slathering bandages with an herb balm and hurried to attend yet another wounded.

She bent over the girl laying upon her back, blood dripping from several wounds on her body. Her eyes were closed, but even as Varia began to check her over she moaned. Slowly her eyes flickered open, or tried to. One was almost sealed shut from the bruised flesh around it, and the other one---the other one was pale, its iris washed of all but the faintest color, making it look like the palest blue. She was blind in that eye.

"Miss Luna?" she whispered.

Chink glanced at his brother. "What do you think he---"

"I don't know." Chank looked down at the slumped demi-maren between them, his eyes half-open but unfocused, murmuring indecipherable words in a hoarse, pain-filled voice. "But whatever he did, it had to have been pretty bad to end up like this."

"Obviously."

They fell silent, working to maneuver the shivering demi-maren down the stairs that led to their destination. The lowest level was deep underground, and it was mostly untouched earth. Only a few cells had been dug into the rocky soil, and these were spread far apart, spanning the entire circumference of the castle in a very spread-out circle. Each a small ten-by-ten foot room, surrounded by thousands of tons of earth. These were known as the Silent Cells, and they were spoken about as the worst place in all of Nightmare.

Chink let go of his side of the burden to take the pair of keys that hung at the very bottom of the steps, and then looked to his brother. Chank nodded. "Get one open; I'll carry him for now."

His brother did as advised, leading the other two down a narrow, dark, and echoing passage to the first opening in the wall. This led down an even narrower hall, which ended in a right turn that opened into a cell. Any maren within one of these cells would be totally isolated, and unable to even hear any other prisoners.

Chink opened the door, wincing at the complete darkness inside; he looked back at his brother, who glanced down at his burden.

Jackle was slumped against his jailer, his back heaving in choking breaths, his mouth moving as he muttered words that were beginning to become clear. "Secret," they thought they heard him say.

Chank looked back at the cell and nearly winced, his reveal-nothing philosophy momentarily shaken; then, he dragged Jackle to the cell door. Giving up to at least a small show of compassion, he helped him to the wall and leaned the demi-maren against it, instead of just throwing him in as would have been customary. After making sure that Jackle was sitting upright, his back propped firmly against the wall, he turned on his heel and went out.

Chink shut the metal door with a clang, locking it silently and then just as silently heading back up the hallway, towards the light and open air. He was already beginning to feel enclosed and slightly panicked.

Chank kept pace beside him, both looking forward and both keeping a silent agreement not to pay attention to the cracked, withered voice they could now hear from the cell behind them, murmuring in a sing-song tone.

"I know a secret, I know a secret…I know a secret, and no one can know!"

Luna sighed as Tessa helped her down onto a bed. "Thanks."

Tessa nodded in return, but her reply was drowned in Luna's gasp. "Aster?!"

The girl being called jerked around, revealing one eye half-closed and the other discolored. After a moment of searching she managed to find the person who had spoken with her swollen eye; it seemed that she could not use the discolored one. "Miss Luna!"

Luna collapsed back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling and breathing hard. "Shards, Aster, you had me nearly scared to death! I thought you'd bought it!"

Aster, with some difficulty, managed to get up and wobble over to her teacher's side. Tessa made a spot for her on the empty bed next to Luna's and Aster dropped onto it gratefully. Her voice was still rough, and a trickle of blood had dried at the corner of her lip. "I'm sorry, Miss Luna, but I was knocked unconscious, and I guess I was in shock, and---"

"And apologizing for being near death is a stupid thing to do," interrupted Luna. "Calm down, Aster, I wasn't being angry, I was…" 

She paused, realizing that tears were dripping down her face. "Drat. Be proud, Aster. This is the first time I've cried in public for ages."

Aster blinked, unsure how to take this. Luna shot a watery glare at a snickering Tessa. "If you had been there, you would be crying too!' she accused. "Shut up!"

Tessa only sniggered more. Luna gave up and joined her, and eventually Aster, while still not quite sure what was going on, joined in. Apparently they were feeling much better.

Reala nodded sharply. "Dismissed."

The messenger bowed and hurried out, thankful to have left the presence of the increasingly frightening general. Reala on his part remained silent, staring out the window at the shifting clouds, one clawed hand tapping his arm rest thoughtfully.

So, a golgoth. Shards, it had been at least four hundred years since he'd fought one of them; and they weren't easy customers, either. He'd barely come out alive from his first encounter with one.

The messenger had stated that there were no accounted deaths, and no one seemed to be in critical condition; that was good. This army was going to be as large as possible when it stormed the Waking World.

Still, now they had a good half dozen or more wounded maren. All part of Luna's sparring class, and she usually served up pretty formidable fighters. This was a very annoying set back. Not to mention Luna herself was wounded, and she had been quite good on the field. How annoying.

And then there was NiGHTS…

Reala had watched from an upper balcony as NiGHTS ordered the other nightmaren about, sending some out to fetch the wounded and others to ready the Infirmary. He was told that NiGHTS had also been the one to slay the golgoth---and that was no small feat. A golgoth had to be hit in one of the very few places where its stone hide had an opening, and one had to be very good at swordsmanship to hit a target that small. Perhaps NiGHTS was not so helpless with a sword as he'd believed.

Reala sighed, speaking out loud in a dark reverie. "You would be the perfect leader, NiGHTS, if you'd only get your act together. What's your problem?"

His gaze flickered to the mirror on the wall, where his haunting image stared back at him with a sapphire gaze. "I know why," he continued. "You're not meant to be the general, NiGHTS. I don't know what you ARE meant to be, but it wasn't the general. That's my job."

He smiled, liking the sound of that. "My job. Ha, it's my job, and mine alone!"

He chuckled to himself, never seeing a crow that was passing outside his window perch on the windowsill, look at him for a moment, and then continue on with its flight, musing that perhaps its demi-maren companion wasn't the only person around here who was unbalanced.

People can be unbalanced in many different areas; everyone is in one way or another. Some are just more obvious about it.

Morgen was whistling when NiGHTS came into the weapons chamber, finding the silver-haired actor as cheerful and animated as ever. He began singing as he worked, not seeing NiGHTS. "You talk of the break of morning, as you view the new aurora; cloud in crimson, the key of heaven, one love carved in acajou. One told me of China Roses, one a Thousand nights and one night. Earth's last picture, the end of evening; hue of indigo and blue. A new moon leads me to---"

"Nowhere," interrupted NiGHTS, finally realizing that the song would not end soon unless he ended it himself. "You can't see a new moon."

Morgen leapt up, facing NiGHTS with happiness written across his features. "NiGHTS, my prince! You're unharmed! I've been so worried…was anyone killed?" His expression jumped to fear.

NiGHTS shook his head. "No, although we nearly lost Aster. Thankfully she's recuperating nicely. I'm told she'll never be able to see again through her left eye, however."

The actor's face changed to pity. "Poor girl…what happened?"

"A training party was attacked by a golgoth," NiGHTS answered shortly, unstrapping his sheath as he did so and handing his sword to Morgen. "That wasn't a golem out in the woods, Morgen, it was a full-grown golgoth. I killed it, but Lucky Star's a mess---would you mind cleaning it for me? I would, but to be absolutely honest with you I'm dead tired and I don't think I could stay up long enough to do it…"

"Of course!" Morgen accepted the weapon, unsheathing it as he did so to inspect the amount of cleaning that would need to be done. He whistled when the blade came free. "Whew, NiGHTS, Star doesn't have a clean place from hilt to tip! What'd you do, stick it in the monster's heart?"

"No, it's forehead," answered NiGHTS wearily, not wanting to relieve the day any more than he had to. Morgen caught on to his reluctance to speak.

"You go and sleep, NiGHTS," he said kindly. "I'll take care of Star. You need a good long rest. G'night."

"Good night," replied NiGHTS, smiling as he went out. Behind him he could hear Morgen begin to sing again as he started cleaning Lucky Star, picking up exactly where he had left off without a hitch.

"---Woods of dreams and I follow. A new world waits for me; my dream, my way…"

"Ring around the rosies, pocket full of posies…"

Deep in the earth, locked in a silent cell, a maren sat. His back was pressed against a cold stone wall, and the coldness hurt, but he did not bother moving to lessen the pressure; he wasn't inhabiting his physical body any more. He was currently wandering through his own mind.

_'Where am I?'_

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" mumbled his body of its own accord, engaging in babble as he tried to find himself.

_'My head feels like…someone just ripped it apart…'_

"See-saw, Margery Daw, Jacky shall have a new master…"

_'Wasn't that what happened? That was what happened…I think…'_

"Jacky shall get but a penny a day, because he can't work any faster!"

_'But then I would be dead if my head got ripped apart.'_

"London Bridges falling down, falling down, falling down…"

_'So that's not what happened.'_

"London Bridges falling down, my fair lady…"

_'I think master wanted something…a memory…'_

"Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye---"

_'A memory of what?'_

"Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie!"

_'I can't…remember…'_

"When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing---"

_'Something about…a library?…'_

"Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before a king?"

Perhaps it was the word _library_, perhaps it was the words _before a king_; either way, a flood of memories came pouring into his mind. He'd opened a door and they'd all been set loose.

He blinked and then moaned, his head aching as memories played back without control. Taking a deep breath, he tried to sort them out and bring some semblance of order into his thoughts. After a while he managed to calm things down a bit.

Then he blinked again. The darkness around him was more complete than he'd thought. He couldn't see a single trace of light anywhere.

Something within him stirred, another suppressed memory, this one hidden by his own command. Now it came back. _'We will begin…'_

Fear leapt into his throat, and he jumped up, ignoring the ripping pain in his head that accompanied the movement. He shoved his arms out, trying to feel the walls, hoping he was merely in a dark room late at night---and found himself hemmed in on all sides by thick, unmoving dark.

The cage.

He choked on a gasp of fear, and the next moment he was pressing himself against the walls, praying to find an exit, a window, a link to the outside. Nothing. He was trapped in a tiny world of black.

He sobbed, pounding his fists against the wall. Maybe if he hit it hard enough…

Deep in the lowest levels of the castle, hidden in a silent cell, no one heard the repeated, muffled thud of a person ramming themselves against a stone wall, or the ragged, terrified sobbing coming from a panting mouth.

Night. Winds blew through the castle, brushing over sleepers who had by now gotten used to their chilly touch and only snuggled deeper into their blankets. Clouds muttered with thunder in the distance, whispering of a storm to come. The stars and moon were hid in cloud. Silent in the darkness, Nightmare waited.

The storm was coming.


	12. Who Knoweth What The Day Brings Forth

~AN~ Sun, glorious sun! A whole day of sun---I'm finally out of that blue funk I've been in for days. Dear skies above, I love sun!  


*ahem* Sorry. On to author business…ha ha! Got you all! I'm so happy that worked!

AC: You mean person, you.

Well sorry, AC, but you know how the whole thing was. Aster was actually supposed to die, but I just couldn't bring myself to kill her---you know how that goes. And yet, whether we like it or not, there's always tragedy in a life; I had to have some somewhere. Glad you people enjoyed both chapters so much…my beta reader and I were pretty much convinced that this story gets better towards the end, and you proved us both right. Thank you so much!

Now about the story in its entirety…as you know, this thing has been put up in chapters because I was on Frankie, our really old computer who took forever to load an internet page…however, after a two-month nightmare of technical stuff, our new PC's back up and running! So, do I just put up the whole story now? I know how much people hate waiting for an author to upload, but I have really enjoyed getting feedback on every chapter: it's helped me improve as a writer, as well as tailor each consecutive installment to what people seem to want. So we're going to do a poll. Shall I continue with the author-noted, single-chaptered, drawn-out story where people get to chew over each installment, or shall I put it all up in one big wham, where people can get the whole story?

I should ask my beta reader, too…hm. Well, I guess I'll get the feedback soon enough. As always, apart from when I'm having trouble with a certain link, please point out any errors or 'could be improved' parts. (Speaking of the link, that thing _did_ finally get up. It's in my author's bio.) Enjoy the show.

Disclaimer: "How come we didn't get to take part in the author's note? So what if we messed up that stupid link?!"---AC  


__

Why is the word pretty so underrated?

In November the leaf is pretty when it falls

The stream grows deep in the woods after rain

And in the pretty pool the pike stalks

He stalks his prey, and this is pretty too,

The prey escapes with and underwater flash

But not for long, the great fish has him now

The pike is a fish who always has his prey…

And it is careless, and that is always pretty

This field, this owl, this pike, this pool are careless,

As Nature is always careless and indifferent

Who sees, who steps, means nothing, and this is pretty.

So a person can come along like a thief---pretty!---

Stealing a look, pinching the sound and feel,

Lick the icicle broken from the bank

And still say nothing at all, only cry pretty.

Cry pretty, pretty, pretty and you'll be able

Very soon not even to cry pretty

And so be delivered entirely from humanity

This is prettiest of all, it is very pretty.

Pretty, by Stevie Smith

_Chapter Twelve: _

Who Knoweth What The Day Brings Forth

Dawn came hidden in cloud. Low overhanging mist dissipated late in the morning, making the world seem to be a dark, fog-cloaked plain with a ceiling of moving grey. Flashes of light in the distance lit the clouds from the inside, drawing an eerie effect of celestial lace as they jumped from cloud to cloud, never forking down in lightening but threatening to do so soon. Winds blew restlessly across the stones of Nightmare Castle.

Inside the Infirmary, morning was greeted with various moans and grumblings. Many refused to wake, and as wounded they possessed the right to do so if they wished. They took full advantage of this.

Aster was sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling with steady breathing. Luna slept as well, her rest far more light from experience, but just as healing. Around the two more nightmaren lay, some still asleep, some moaning and muttering as they became aware of wounds that had been forgotten during the night.

Stella moved among them, tsking and soothing as she arranged bedclothes and checked bandages. Varia stayed to the side, mixing a poultice Stella had needed; she wanted to stay as far away from the wounded as she could. Just the thought of the wounds she had helped treat the night before made her want to retch.

Tessa stuck her head in the Infirmary door, eyes searching until they found Luna and Aster. "How's things?"

"Everyone's fine, thank yi'," replied Stella, not looking up from her business of reapplying a bandage that had worked loose during a boy's restless sleep. "And yirself?"

"Fine, thanks. Anything you two need?"

"Breakfast would be nice."

Varia winced at the mention of breakfast. She didn't think she could eat while surrounded by wounded people.

Tessa nodded. "All right. I'll bring some up in a bit. Tell Aster and Luna I said hi." And she was gone.

In the sleeping quarters, Terrance was currently looking for his sister. She had already left by the time he awoke.

Sleepy maren looked on amusedly as he dashed about, checking under beds and behind curtains, calling, "Tessa!"

Finally convinced that she was not somewhere in the room, he bolted out to begin a search of the entire castle if necessary. The ones left behind chuckled and began the business of getting up.

In the youths' barracks, waking up was a mixture of maren begging to sleep, maren getting up on time, and some more mischievous souls creeping over to the sides of their sleeping companions to yell cheerful good morning messages in their ears. This was followed by the sleeping maren either bolting up, ignoring their assaulters, or flinging a pillow. Normal morning routine.

Some of the young ones were already gone. Chaotica's loud, cheerful presence was obviously missing. Those who worked in the kitchens had to get up early; however the boon of not having many fighting classes made up for that. A kitchen worker only had to know enough to defend themselves, and no more.

Heckler, perhaps a bit disappointed at his friend's non-presence, consoled himself by going around and waking up at least five other teens by yelling in their unsuspecting ears.

"YOU GONNA SLEEP ALL DAY?!"

"WELL GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO!" was often the oh so cheerful reply, and the disgruntled row of maren he left behind him certainly looked willing to give him a good morning message that involved getting smothered with pillows. But that was Heckler. 

Reala woke early. 

He had a busy schedule, and he couldn't afford to loll about in bed for half an hour. As soon as he was aware of his surroundings he sat up, stretching to work out the slight stiffness that had settled in his muscles, his long black mane of hair spilling over his shoulders in disarray. He flipped a stray white bang, one of the few white streaks that ran through his locks, out of his face and looked to the window. 

It was dark out, but he could feel it was morning. The clouds had not cleared up. Rolling over, he planted his feet on the floor, stretching some more as he got up and walked over to his dresser. The scene, had it not been played out by a pale ghost of a creature in a room that was decorated with black iron and crimson cloth, would have been almost mindlessly idyllic.

He stared at his reflection as he tucked his hair into his floppy, wrestling with a small strand or two that refused to be contained. His cold, ice-blue eyes stared back.

_'Another day, another dollar,'_ he thought quietly, letting his hands drop as the strands finally stayed. _'Another training run, another fighting lesson, and another step closer to the Waking World.'_

The crooked mouth reflected in the mirror curved into a smile. _'Another step closer to perfection.'_

NiGHTS woke late.

He was refreshed, but it had taken all night to become so; dashing back and forth between Mystic Forest and the castle with wounded maren had exhausted him.

He sat up, purple hair spilling over into his face, blocking his vision and making him pause to patiently work out the tangles that had formed. _'I need to work on that,'_ he decided. _'Mental note: Tie back hair before bed.'_

He glanced at the window, fingers combing through his shoulder-length violet hair. Clouds obscured his view of the sky, and the whole picture was decidedly gloomy. There was no visible patch of sun anywhere.

Finally his hair was in some semblance of order, and he rolled over, getting up and walking with a quick step to his mirror. He stared at his reflection as he put his floppy on, trying to force his wayward hair into it. Violet eyes stared at violet eyes.

He winced as his shoulder made known a still-sore muscle. _'I need to work on my endurance, too,' _he thought. _'If I'm going to be part of this campaign, I'll need to be strong enough to survive.'_

His thoughts flashed back to the night before, and the scene that had opened up in front of him: a raging stone monster, surrounded by wounded and terrified maren. All of them, excepting Luna, were only teens.

He sighed. These children were not fighters, at least not yet. They needed more time. Time to grow and learn, and to teach themselves how to survive, just as he was. They needed time!

_'Reala is pushing them too far ahead,' _he thought hopelessly. _'Too far and too fast. Why can't he see they're only children? He's too caught up in this whole thing to see that he's expecting too much! They should be allowed to work at their own pace!'_

He paused, turning this statement over in his mind. _'But then, Wizeman's the one who pushed Reala into the whole thing in the first place…so…it's Wizeman's fault…_

_'And if it's Wizeman's fault, then he doesn't know what he's doing.'_

His body tensed, and he half expected to be suddenly struck dead by a lightening bolt for daring to sound so blasphemous. But nothing occurred, except for the low sound of wind moaning about the castle. NiGHTS was too caught up in his musings to notice. New thoughts that he had not dared express before were coming to light.

_'Really, he doesn't. He's pushing them all too far, and he doesn't even notice---either that, or he doesn't care. What kind of person doesn't care about those he's created? And what can he do, really, that makes us so afraid of him, anyway? Why are we so afraid of what he'll do if we rebel? What can he do? Kill us? That'll happen anyway, sooner or later…dying I mean…'_

Finally he continued getting ready for his day, moving slowly in his thoughtfulness. He had much to think about.

Jackle never fell asleep.

He lay shivering on the floor of the cold cell, his eyes wide and staring unfocused at the darkness in front of him. His pulse was far faster than normal, and his breathing was heavy and feverish. He was murmuring to himself.

"Dark, so dark…see saw, Margery Daw, Jacky has a master…cold, cold, so very very cold and dark…star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…cold…a secret, a secret, a secret no one knows!"

A soothing warmth flowed over his mind, and he thought he felt a cool hand pressed against his sweating forehead, pushing back the invisible locks of short hair. _Jackle, can you hear us?_

"Hear you," he whispered. "Ding dong dell, Pussy's in the well…"

__

Concentrate on the sound of our voices, Jackle. Just concentrate.

"Try…ing…"

_Jackle, we can help you. Open your mind to us and let us heal you._

"Open…my mind?…"

__

Please, accept our help. Allow us to enter.

"Don't…know what…you're talking…about…"

_All you have to do is concentrate just a little, Jackle. A very little. Just pretend that your mind is a door, and you're opening it to us._

"Why?…"

_We can heal you, make you strong again. All you have to do is accept us in._

He closed his dilated eyes, panting. _'Okay.'_

Within his mind he pictured a door, a small wooden one. It looked a lot like the one that led to his study. He reached out for the doorknob, his hand shaking for an unknown reason; somewhere deep inside he felt hesitation. His trembling fingers touched the knob, but he couldn't bring himself to turn it. He felt as if he were about to let someone into a secret chamber, a sacred place that shouldn't be desecrated so.

_Please, Jackle, let us in. Let us be your friends._

_'I…'_

_Trust us._

His fingers gripped the doorknob tightly, and he opened the door.

Instantly a feeling of peace washed over him, almost as if he had stepped into a sunlit room. He took a breath and dropped, allowing his mind to fall into the hands of whoever had entered. The voices sounded pleased.

_Thank you, Jackle. Now just rest. We will heal your mind._

Pulses of comfort spread through his head, as if they were trying to gather together the shattered memories and broken thoughts. He lay still, allowing them free reign of his mind, falling into a sort of dormancy as their healing balm smoothed out his crumpled thoughts.

The warm feeling came upon the shattered remains of the memory the hands had torn apart, and he felt their sympathy. _Oh, Jackle, that must have hurt unimaginably. Here, let us put it back together for you._

Slowly the warmth pieced the shreds together, laying them down carefully in their proper positions and then covering them all in its heat. He could almost feel the tears mend, and the memory was clear again. 

He sighed in contentment, happy. The warmth spread itself out, coating his mind in its peace, and the voices whispered softly to him_. Now just rest, Jackle. Rest and heal. We will stay with you._

Deep in the earth, lying in a tiny cell, a demi-maren fell into contented sleep. And 

a warmth watched over him.

Chink looked up. "There he goes again."

"What?" His brother looked at him quizzically.

"That crow."

Chank brushed his shaggy green bangs out of his eyes to stare at the soot-colored bird currently flying along the wall. "What about him?"

Chink shook his head. "That crow's come around twice now. It's like he's looking in the windows for something."

His brother blinked, looking back at the crow with new interest. "Well, that's strange."

"Very."

Yards along the wall top, the next guard also noticed the bird. Hist's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. _'I wonder what that crow is doing.'_

His companion was staring out at Mystic Forest, and never noticed Hist's object of interest. He wrinkled his nose. _'Look at the fool. He never saw something fly right under his very nose. If the rest of the guards are like this, we aren't in good standing.'_

The crow continued to fly about the castle, circling the walls and peering in the windows as he passed, ignoring the guards on the wall that pointed at him and murmured; he was too busy searching to bother acting like a normal crow. He was searching desperately for his master.

"Anyone seen Jackle?"

Gillwing looked up hopefully at these words, but apparently no one knew the answer to Puffy's question. The High Seekers' table remained silent.

Around them, nightmaren chattered happily, all doing their part to maintain the normal amount of breakfast noise. Currently there was a bit more talking going on than usual, and of the more serious sort; rumors abounded. Rumors about a monster that brutally attacked a training mission, of a moving boulder that lurked in Mystic Forest, about a sudden harshness on Lord Reala's part. Even less detailed rumors wafted about concerning a certain demi-maren's strange absence; whispers of screams heard coming from Lord Wizeman's throne room, and Lord Reala seen exiting alone. Chink and Chank had not spread their story, but when asked they told what they had seen. This strand of a tale soon wove into the rest of the whispers, creating a complicated and constantly changing tapestry of rumor. No one knew exactly what was going on.

At the High Seekers' table, the leaders were quiet. They, unlike the masses, knew a bit more about what was going on; they knew a golgoth had appeared in Mystic Forest and had attacked twice, meeting its death during the second attack, and they knew that Reala had become more strict, focusing all of his energy upon being the general Wizeman would approve of.

They were less clear on what had happened to Jackle. He'd remained with Wizeman after a short report with Reala, and hadn't been seen since. Gillwing was immensely worried.

Reala ate silently, ignoring the chatter around them to focus on eating. The rest of the leaders were quiet, each busy with their own thoughts. Finally Gillwing spoke up.

"Do you think he went out on a walk?"

Puffy and Clawz met each others gaze and sniggered. Gulpo, floating in his bowl, rolled his eyes. Reala looked at Gillwing with a cold gaze. "No, Gillwing. I do not think he is out on a walk."

"Morning, all," greeted NiGHTS as he sat down and began to serve himself.

"Good morning," replied Puffy politely. Gulpo acknowledged him with a blink.

Clawz nodded. "Hi."

Gillwing's eyes lit up eagerly. "Hi, NiGHTS!"

NiGHTS smiled at Gillwing's cheerful greeting and the others' less than enthusiastic welcome, then turning to Reala. "Heya, Reala."

Reala nodded silently, and continued eating.

NiGHTS' expression faltered briefly, and he looked back down at his dish. For a moment no one spoke.

Finally Puffy broke the uncomfortable silence. "So you fought a golgoth yesterday?"

"Wasn't much of a fight---more like a ten-second dash!" laughed NiGHTS, slipping back into his usual cheerfulness. "But yeah, I did. Gigantic brute, I tell you."

"I thought we were talking about the golgoth, not Gillwing," murmured Clawz, evoking a smile from Puffy and NiGHTS. 

The sly insult passed right over Gillwing's head. He looked at NiGHTS, his expression suddenly anxious. "Have you seen Jackle?"

"Jackle?" NiGHTS' face turned thoughtful. "No, can't say I have…why?"

"He's missing," replied Gillwing simply.

NIGHTS raised an eyebrow. "Missing?"

"Now, we don't know that, Gill," interrupted Clawz. "I personally am of the opinion that the idiot is cavorting about in Mystic Forest somewhere. The fool's slept outside before, you know."

"Mystic Forest?" NiGHTS looked disturbed. "I hope he wasn't near the golgoth…"

"I doubt it," cut in Reala shortly. "I saw him in Wizeman's throne room only a short time before the attack supposedly happened. He was not attacked by the golgoth."

Gillwing looked relieved, as did NiGHTS. Then the first-level looked over to his brother, another unsettling suspicion touching the edge of his mind. "You saw him in Wizeman's chamber?"

"Wizeman requested our presence," replied Reala. "He had Jackle stay when I left. That was the last time he was seen."

NiGHTS looked down at his plate, his thoughts suddenly taking a new turn. _'I wonder…no, of course Wizeman wouldn't keep him in there that long! He must be hiding somewhere…'_

He centered his attention back on his food, his voice carefully calm. "I'm sure he turn up sooner or later, Gillwing. Don't worry."

"If you say so," said Gillwing doubtfully.

" 'Mornin, all!" Aniline sat down, flashing the table a bright smile before helping herself to the food. Assorted greetings welcomed her.

"Where were you yesterday?" asked another of the students, this one an archer.

"I was running a training route through Stick Canyon," the scout in training replied. Her eyes lit up. "Guess what---Corbeau says I'm almost ready to start running routes on my own!"

"You're lucky you weren't in Mystic Forest," remarked Heckler. "Good for you about the going on your own, by the way."

"Thanks." She bit into a strawberry before asking, "But what did you mean about Mystic Forest?"

"You didn't hear?" 

"No---what's up with the Forest?"

The collective table all looked at her. "You don't know?" "You haven't heard?" "Didn't someone tell you?" "She doesn't know!" "Don't you know about it?"

"I already answered that." She blinked, the pink diamonds painted over her eyes becoming whole before they were split again as her eyelids opened. "What's up? Did I miss something?"

"Did you miss something?" Heckler laughed his harsh laugh. "Understatement of the year, here!"

"Knock it off and spill, Heckler!" 

"A golgoth," he replied calmly, and began spreading a roll with butter.

She blinked again. "Golgoth? What are you talking about?"

Heckler took a bite of his bread before replying. "Y'know the rumors about a golem?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Yeah. Well, turns out that it wasn't a golem like the four said---they had their ancient creature knowledge mixed. It was a golgoth. Far as I can figure out, a golgoth is kind of like a horse and a golem is a pony. Big stone thing, little stone thing. Get it?"

"Uh, sort of." She stopped. "Wait, there was a big golem going through Mystic Forest?"

"A golgoth. And yeah, it was. It attacked Miss Luna's training mission."

"It attacked them?" repeated Aniline in a horrified tone. "Was anyone hurt?"

"At least seven or eight. Word is Aster nearly died. Then NiGHTS came out of nowhere and killed the brute." Heckler took a drink with the smugness of a storyteller who'd had a good story. Aniline's face was filled with shock.

"I had no idea…is Aster okay?"

"She's alive, and they say that's a mercy, but her left eye's blind now."

"Blind in one eye…" Aniline trailed off, staring at her plate. It had been so long since anyone had been attacked---that was all over now, wasn't it? The Taming Age was done, and they didn't have anything to worry about. People weren't supposed to be blinded by monsters.

With some difficulty she began eating again. One of the other nightmaren got up from the table, causing everyone to look up. "Where are you going, Wyth?"

"Clock Tower. The glass needs cleaning, or so says Master Tynan. And, being the Master Cleaner, he ought to know, I suppose."

"Master Cleaner?" Jitters burst out into laughter. "Who gave him that title?"

"NiGHTS, I think---makes sense, considering how often he has us cleaning everything. I swear I've polished the front gate at least ten times in the last month…" He gave his friends a wink and left the table, heading for the Clock Tower. It was a tall, golden-tipped tower located at the very edge of Mystic Forest, a large building with a huge clock's face. Its hands never slowed, and all of Nightmare was run by its time. 

Aniline got up as well, waving to her friends as she left. "See you, guys. Time for me to report in with the others. By the way, Heckler, what did they do with the golgoth?"

"Left it there, far as I know. Don't let it scare you back home if you see it."

"Shaddup, Heckler!"

__

I have talked much with Mira, asking her questions and listening to her tales until the stars came out. The fire is dying now, and I will retire as soon as I have recorded that which I have learned, and which I think will be useful to the nightmaren that come after us…

The stars are important, she says. The stars are closely linked to the seasons and days; one can find out where they are and what date it is just by looking up at the stars. Some, she says, only come out for a few nights once every hundred years…

_Excerpt from the diary of Emirgast, a first-level nightmaren_

_Jackle._

Jackle moaned, feeling consciousness slowly begin to creep back to him. It wound through his mind, touching his thoughts and trying to bring him back to awareness.

_Jackle, wake up. You've slept enough._

_'Don't wanna…wake up…'_

_It's time to get up, Jackle. Come on._

He yawned, opening his eyes, then whimpered. The black around him was so deep…

_Don't worry, Jackle, we're here._

"Don't go away," he begged, speaking into the darkness as if they could somehow hear him better that way. "Please, don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone!" His voice jumped high in sudden fright. His memories were back together again---and they scared him to death.

_We won't leave you, never fear. We'll be here whenever you need us._

"You weren't there last night," he accused. "You went away."

_But we came back, and you let us in. Now that you've allowed us in, we'll come whenever you call._

"Really?"  
_Certainly._

"Oh. Okay." He smiled; then, he giggled. "Thanks!"

_Of course._

"So now what do I do? I don't want to be in here…" Frightened again.

_You won't be for long, Jackle. Wizeman will bring you back out, and today._

"Wizeman?" His pulse jumped violently. "No, no no no not again! No, please, master, didn't do anything wrong---"

_Jackle! Calm down. He won't hurt you._

"How do you know?

_Just be the way he wants you to be, Jackle. He'll be happy with you again._

Jackle cocked his head to one side, invisible hair tumbling about his neck as he did so. "How does he want me to be?"

_He wants you to be proud of yourself, Jackle. He wants you to be strong, and to show your power. He wants you to be yourself._

"How do I do that?"

_Remember what we taught you?_

He thought hard. "Um…laughter?"

_Yes._ They sounded satisfied. _Laughter is power, Jackle. Whenever you're unsure, whenever someone insults you, whenever you feel weak---laugh. It'll make everything better._

"Really?" 

_Yes._

"Wow…okay."

_Why don't you try and laugh?_

"Now?"

_Yes. Don't you see how funny it all is?_

"What do you mean?"

The voices began to sing. _Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, and sky and stone and night and grey and stars all dim a-gleam…dark and night shadowed and dim, full deep river flow strong…full dusky night of fire-flies and glowing blood of song…shining mirror glimmering sharp and bright the knife-edge sting…flash bright aware like dark stream-burst, and hum life on a string…_

A laugh broke from his lips. It didn't stop there. He continued to laugh.

It poured from his mouth, high and breathless, a bubbling fountain of sound that just seemed to jump from his throat, spawned by the images rushing through his mind of flashes of glass cutting through deep black and filled with flowing sound and whispers of dusk. He clutched his stomach, laughing. "Oh, it's so---pretty!" he gasped between laughs. "That's just so pretty!"

He gulped in shuddering lungfulls of air, the laughter slowly dying away into giggles. He continued to giggle quietly, trying to catch his breath. "It's all so…pretty…"

_Isn't it?_

"So very…pretty…"

_See, that's all you have to do. Just act like yourself in front of people, and they'll give you respect. Act like yourself in front of Wizeman, and he'll like you._

"Okay." He giggled again, staring into the dark with wide eyes. "Oh, everything's so pretty…"


	13. The Heroism We Recite

~AN~ *bows* The reviewers have spoken. This story will be brought to its conclusion gracefully and in its own time. 

^_^ Personally, I prefer this way myself. Now I get to receive comments on every chapter! *rubs hand together like a miniature version of Grima, grinning a greedy little author's grin* Reviews is gooooood. We love reviews---don't we, Precious? *scratches her bird Kiwi* That's my new nickname for him---Precious. Now I can speak to 'my Precious', acting as if Precious is another person, when I'm the only one in the room. ^_^ It's fun to do, Precious, though they looks at us funny and shakes their heads.

Bass: …dear skies above, I do believe she's finally gone mad.

AC: Nah, she's talked to herself ever since she was three.

Disclaimer: "I swear, Avis is getting more and more loony these days."---Bass

__

The point is,…the point is, that as far as I can see, everything's cracking up.

Anne in The Golden Notebook_, by Doris Lessing_

_Chapter Thirteen: _

The Heroism We Recite

__

She told me that some maren were prone to dreams; a sort of window to the future, scrambled into nonsense, she called them. But dreaming nightmaren are very few, and they must be very strong; strong enough to sense the flashes of time and space that the Dream World sometimes lets slip. I have to admit I find it all very confusing---for example, how does a flash of time slip? Does it travel like we do?

Mira says I must stop looking at things with a scientific eye; science is for the Waking World, she says, and imagination is what rules in our world. But our world has as many laws as the Waking World, doesn't it?

Mira seemed very fond of the idea of dreamer maren; she kept on saying that they were very important. Then she said that another thing that's important is two. Two dreams, two stars, and two Ideya. Two Courage Ideya, she added quickly.

I asked her what she meant by that, but she only smiled faintly and started telling me about the Courage Ideya. They are only available once every hundred years, on what she called "the night of the convergence". Only two exist at any time; any more, she says, would be too much raw energy for the Dream World to handle. They must be powerful, I think.

She says they are very powerful; powerful enough to do almost anything with. Even powerful enough to make a bridge to the Waking World, although that can only be done on the night of the convergence. She told me when the night of the convergence is: it's a mid-summer night, exactly at midnight, once every hundred years. You can tell the date by a storm that gathers during the days before, and its clouds circle about the place the convergence will be. The storm breaks and fades, is born and dies, on the night of the convergence.

_Emirgast, Recorder_

Wizeman slammed the book shut, having finally found what he was looking for after perusing books all night. He shot a glance at the rumbling clouds outside and the way they circled about the Clock Tower. So. Tonight, or at the most tomorrow, was the night of the convergence. Oh, he could kill that miserable demi-maren…

There was still time. He would send out his nightmaren, have them search every space in all of Nightmare.

He headed for his throne room, bellowing mentally for his creations. _'My maren! Listen to me!'_

The summons fell like a shout on the minds of every nightmaren in the castle. There were several cries of protest from the injured as someone shouted in their ear; Stella jumped, tsking as she rushed to the bedsides to comfort and sooth. "Tch, can't the big brute just ask us, instead o' hollerin' to break a window?"

NiGHTS, heading for the weapons chamber to get Lucky Star and practice, stopped in his tracks and waited in surprise. Wizeman would only resort to mentally contacting the entire nightmaren population if he had something utterly important to say. He had better listen.

Reala, about to start a training class, jerked to a halt and held up his hand for silence. He too knew that whatever Wizeman had to say must be important. A small smile touched his mouth; perhaps it was something to do with the mission.

Deep in the lowest level of the castle, Jackle felt the summons ring through his head like a bell. He gasped out and clutched his temples, moaning. That had hurt.

_Calm down, _instructed the voices. _Just listen and hear what he has to say._

The powerful voice rang through the mind of every maren as clearly as if they were standing in front of Wizeman themselves. _'I now know that the bridge to the Waking World may only be made once every hundred years. Tonight is the night---if we do not have a Courage Ideya by midnight, the mission will be put on hold for a century! Every one of you, I want those Ideya found---search without rest! I will not be satisfied until a red Ideya is brought before me. Go!'_

Confusion rang through the halls. Kitchen workers looked up in cluelessness. "Did he mean me?" they asked each other. Fighters in their classes looked to their teachers, asking if they were dismissed. The teachers blinked, decided that when Wizeman sounded that mad they'd better do what he said down to the letter, and nodded. Healers looked at their still-invalid patients and edged out reluctantly. The courtyard was quickly filled to its capacity and beyond with confused nightmaren, all unsure of what to do.

Reala marched into the midst of the confusion, and his voice rang out above the clamor. "ALL EYES ON ME!"

Everything quieted, and he had the floor. His voice was powerful. "First Power Division! Sound out!"

There were scattered calls as those who had just been assigned to the named 

group yelled out. Reala pointed in their general direction. "All of you, search Spring Valley! Go! Second Power Division, sound out!" More calls. "Splash Garden! Go! Archers! Lancers! Archers to Stick Canyon, Lancers to Soft Museum! Swordsmen!"

NiGHTS came out into the courtyard intending to start searching, but ending up watching in amazement as the chaos was instantly turned into a well-spread search expedition by Reala's forceful leadership. The Seeker General stood tall, black and white clothes strikingly bright, his face full of power. He was in his element.

Within moments the air was filled with nightmaren leaving the castle in all directions, desperately searching for dreamers. Groups flew towards their respective destinations as fast as they were able.

Clawz sprinted by, his namesakes digging into the earth as he gathered his sleek, powerful body into a tight ball before launching himself into the air, actually leaping onto the castle wall and then making another jump down to the ground on the other side, guards staring open-mouthed after the catmaren who had just performed a fabulous leap that was at least thrice his height. Gillwing flapped overhead, his destination Spring Valley, and Gulpo was doubtlessly taking the water tunnels that led from his lagoon and bowl in the Great Hall to Splash Garden. Puffy was already at Frozen Bell and would probably base her search from there. 

Reala took off, heading for Soft Museum. Jackle would have taken it were he here, but the demi-maren was missing and therefore someone else had to take up his slack. NiGHTS launched after him, intending to search Stick Canyon. No other High Seeker would be there, he knew, and the searchers needed to be spread out evenly; otherwise he would have liked going to Mystic Forest. He liked the woods.

Soon the castle was, barring the wounded, entirely deserted.

Two healthy maren remained. Chink and Chank had been about to head for Stick Canyon when a mental summons, heard only by they themselves, echoed through their heads. _'You two. Bring Jackle to me.'_

Glancing at each other, they both shrugged and went to do as told.

In his throne room, Wizeman watched as maren scattered throughout the Dream World, dreamers screaming in fright as hordes of nightmarish creatures descended upon them, ripping away Ideya without mercy. Good.

He did not see the hesitation with which more than one nightmaren acted, most of the hesitating ones being those who were part of the party that had been attacked yesterday, along with one or two of the older maren. This went unnoticed. Wizeman turned his attention away from the frenzied hunt without, satisfied that his servants were doing everything in their power to find him what he needed. Perhaps, just perhaps, they would make the deadline.

There was nothing more for him to do until the Ideya were found, and therefore he had time to see to the misdeeds of a certain demi-maren…

"I swear, I'm going to roast that miserable maren alive," he muttered.

Jackle was humming to himself when he caught the sound of footsteps falling along the passage further down. Instantly he was on his feet. _'Someone's coming!'_

Didn't we tell you?

The door opened slowly, allowing the smallest bit of light to be seen. Jackle's eyes shot to it as if it were gold, and he took a stumbling step forward.

Chink blinked and, without even realizing it, stepped back; his brother did as well. The personage coming towards them was almost terrifying. 

Jackle staggered out of the shadows, barely visible in the darkness. His eyes were dilated and bloodshot, and his mouth was slightly open from heavy breathing; sharp fangs glittered in the low light. His hands twitched nervously, as if he were depraved of a habit, and his eyes were filled with staring fascination. He smiled, the fangs showing more. "You wanted me?"

Chink swallowed, trying to ignore the frightening crack in the demi-maren's voice, as if he'd spent hours screaming. "Lord Wizeman wishes to speak to you."

Jackle paused, and for a moment his eyes flashed to fear; then they became slightly unfocused. He was silent for a moment. Then, he laughed.

It was very short, only a giggle really, but apparently it made him feel better, for he looked back up at them with an almost childish grin. "Well, then, take me to him already!"

Behind him, Chink could hear Chank suck in an almost inaudible breath and then let it out quickly. He felt the same. Swallowing, he moved to Jackle's side, taking his hands behind his back. "Standard procedure," he mumbled.

"Oh, don't apologize to me," laughed Jackle, trailing off into a dying giggle. Chank stepped in front and began the walk down the hall, listening to the footsteps of his brother and the insane demi-maren behind him, and praying that they would be able to get away from Jackle soon.

The girl screamed shrilly, crying out as the wind was knocked from her by a blow to her back. She fell, trying to choke in a breath, and sobbed.

The boy she had only met that night leapt next to her, shouting defiantly at the strange beings that floated before them. "Leave her alone!"

The purple one turned and looked at the black and white one disapprovingly. "Really, Reala, you shouldn't have hit her!"

"I was just knocking her down to keep her from escaping," snapped Reala irritably, winded from his exhaustive search. He didn't stay annoyed for long; he was too filled with the pride of accomplishment. "Now hurry, we have to get these two back to Wizeman!"

NiGHTS watched in dismay as Reala swept down towards the girl, who had finally managed to get air back in her lungs and now screamed again. NiGHTS shot his hand out in a gesture to stop. "Reala, wait! Let me take her."

Reala pulled up and gave his brother a queer look, one eyebrow raised. "Let you take her?"

NiGHTS nodded wordlessly and dropped down to the ground, walking towards the girl with an almost hesitant gait.

Reala stared at him for a moment before snorting and turning to the boy, who faced him bravely. "I'm not afraid of you," the boy said quietly.

The general waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before. Millions of times. Now hold still and don't squirm, or I'll drop you." That said, he lunged for the boy, gripping him in a tight grasp and rising into the air with his burden. "Meet you at the castle, NiGHTS!" he called, and shot off.

NiGHTS bent down, wincing as the girl pulled away, her eyes wide with fear. "Don't hurt me, please," she whispered. Then her expression changed to bravery. "And even if you do, it won't get you anything."

"You're right," replied NiGHTS, and gently lifted her, carrying her as carefully as he could in his arms. "Hold on."

She gasped as he rose into the air and shot forward, putting on speed he knew was necessary. She swallowed, but made no other comment. She had the Courage Ideya.

NiGHTS' mind was flying far faster than his body, his thoughts chaotic and restless. _'So now we have the two Ideya---we're going into the Waking World tonight! But the younger ones---it's too soon! They could all get killed!'_

Below him, nightmaren were chasing dreamers like there was no tomorrow, not aware that the objects of their search had already been found. NiGHTS did not dare stop to declare so because of the urgency that he get this girl to Wizeman, but he did watch. The scene below was frighteningly like the one he'd been witness to yesterday, and it brought back to the front of his mind the first image he'd seen. A giant stone monster lashing out at the small creatures around it, their terrified screams merging with the moans and sobs of the wounded teens lying about. 

His stomach gave a sickening twist. _'By tomorrow morning many young maren will have been in a situation like that. Along with the human children, too.'_

He looked down at the girl in his arms, swallowing to try and keep the feeling of sickness down in his gut. She stared back up at him with wide, light blue eyes. Very light blue eyes, almost like the color of forget-me-nots in spring…

Reala's eyes.

He jerked back his head. _'Her eyes don't look like Reala's! Not any more, at least…'_ He closed his own eyes tightly, trying to banish the thoughts and images that ran through it, and concentrated on getting to Nightmare Castle.

Wizeman's voice rang out in answer to the knock on the iron doors. "Enter."

Chink opened the doors quickly, holding them for his brother and the now trembling demi-maren. He closed them just as fast and moved to stand before the other two, bowing hurriedly to Wizeman. "We have brought him, Lord Wizeman."

"Very well. Go and join the search."

Chink and Chank stepped back as one, bowed low, turned about and went out. 

A single stone hand hovered down to float a few feet in front of Jackle, its eye focused squarely on his face. "What do you have to say, Jackle?"

"I-I'm sorry, master," faltered Jackle, eyes cast low.

The eye continued to stare. "That is the only defense you have?"

Jackle's mind raced for a more suitable answer; small voices in the back of his mind provided him with one. "My fear of your power made me hide," he confessed, his voice trembling. "You're too strong for me to comprehend…how could I admit that I went against your will?…"

Wizeman was silent. He brought another hand down, getting a better look at the demi-maren's eyes. "What do you expect to happen now, Jackle?"

"I don't know," whimpered Jackle, when the voices did not provide another answer. "What you did…last night?…" His voice trembled. A slight waver in its tone made it sound as if he were on the verge of giggling.

A third eye joined the other two. "No. I will do nothing."

"N-nothing, master?"

"You seem to have learned your lesson. But remember, what I did to you last night was only using the smallest fraction of my power. I could have multiplied your pain by a million had I so desired. Keep that in mind."

"Y-yes, master." Jackle bowed quickly, his hands twitching sporadically. "What do you want me to do now, master?"

"Go back to as you were," replied Wizeman, his three eyes still searching the demi-maren's eyes. "Tonight, should the Courage Ideya be found, we will cross over to the Waking World and begin our conquer of it. Be ready."

"Y-yes, master." Something whispered words in the back of his mind, and a small smile touched the edge of his mouth.

The three eyes all saw the motion. "What is so amusing, Jackle?"

"Oh, nothin'," replied Jackle, smiling. "I was just thinking about how much new games we'll get to play…"

Wizeman's hands drew closer, gazing at the demi-maren's face; then, abruptly, they drew back. He turned away. "You are dismissed. Go and join your brethren in the search for the Courage Ideya."

Jackle bowed, his cape fluttering about his body in graceful waves. "As you wish."

He blinked, his eyes becoming slightly unfocused for a second; then he giggled. "Boss," he added.

Turning cheerfully, he went out.

Wizeman stared into space, his mind busy running over all of the subtle signs he'd picked up from the demi-maren, signs that had disproved his expectations and kept him from letting out his wrath. He had expected the rather fragile-minded nightmaren to come out of his containment trembling, babbling about his loyalty and cringing at every move the ruler made. Instead he seemed strangely together, capable of reasonable thought and reaction, but with a healthy dose of fear. He was also oddly happy, and giggled under his breath. Which, really, meant that his expectations hadn't been off.

Jackle was insane.

NiGHTS glanced down at the girl in his arms, cringing inwardly when he saw that she was still gazing up at his face. His eyes, perhaps. 

_'Will you stop staring at me?' _he thought in frustration. _'Your eyes look too much like Reala's. Stop looking at me!'_

"Your eyes are pretty," said the girl.

NiGHTS blinked. "So are yours," he replied before he realized what he was saying.

He blinked again, thrown off-kilter by this unexpected bit of conversation; thankfully he was over the castle walls now, which meant that this was nearly over. He landed gently in the courtyard, finding himself face to face with an impatient Reala.

"Took you long enough!" Reala snapped good-naturedly, turning about and stalking off with the boy shoved in front of him. "Come on, Wizeman's waiting."

NiGHTS let the girl down and pushed her gently before him, following Reala. Inwardly, he was despairing. _'Why does this all feel so wrong?'_

Clouds rumbled threateningly, moving in ceaseless turmoil, boiling into a brewing storm that was centered directly over the Clock Tower. Lightening flashed within the clouds, lacing them with stark white edging. Thunder muttered and growled deep within the roiling mass.

Out in the Dream World, spanning it from one end to the other, flying over every inch of ground, maren shivered and glanced towards home. Winds blew even in the normally peaceful Spring Valley, causing Gillwing to shudder, his sides heaving with the effort. Gulpo stayed as near to the top of the water as possible, trying to remain in the warmer surface water. Puffy, searching through Soft Museum, rubbed her arms, trying to stay warm. Deep in the shades of Mystic Forest Clawz paused to shudder, his fur pricking unpleasantly as the wind ruffled it with cold fingers. Searchers blew on their hands and pulled coats tighter about their necks, hoping that the coming storm would hold off long enough for them to finish their search.

The storm was nearly there.


	14. Though They Go Mad

~AN~ Eh heh…this is short chapter. But I couldn't just paste the next one on to the end, now, could I?

AC: 'Course ya could.

Oh. 

Bass: Blast it, just say whatever you need to say and put up the darn thing.

Okay, okay! *ahem* I only have two things to do before I shut up, but they are very very important business matters---and the first is a cookie! NightSky, I'm sorry I didn't give you one before; here's an extra chocolate-chippy one! Insomnia?

Insomnia: *gives Sky cookie*

There, cookie business done. Now the other matter: New muses! First, I would like you to meet someone who is really meant to be a character, not a muse; however he's not a maren, and so he'll be gracing us with his presence until he finds a niche somewhere. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome Jules!

Jules: *saunters in; is an average-sized teen with sharp blond hair, white t-shirt, red vest, cargo pants, and the typical teen 'you don't know what I'm thinking so bug off' expression; is leaning on a thin wooden staff with a green gem on the top, has another gem of the same type embedded in his forehead*

Bass: He's kind of Mary-Sueish, isn't he?

Jules: *icy glare*

Bass: *ignores glare and leave to get a cookie*

'Hem. This is Jules, the temporary muse. He's named after the word 'Joules', as in the electric term; he gets it from his abilities. He can channel energy and use it to create controllable lightning by gathering a large amount in a concentrated area and then shifting energy modules to make a path for it to go along when it's released. Those gems are rather like storage cells and can hold large amounts of concentrated energy. Jules likes to use energy in very small, intense amounts, and can fling one with the speed of lightning; energy bullets, so to speak. It's his favorite offensive move.

AC: 'Kay. Long as he doesn't go on a rampage and get us in trouble.

Jules: *gives him a weird look*

AC: Hey, I've worked with Bass, okay?

Jules: …right.

Um…let's not mention that, okay? *ahem* The other new muse is someone very special---people, say hello to Vitamin D!

Vitamin D: *enters; is knee-high, silver grey, with very skinny arms and legs and little blocky black balls for his hands and feet; has large pure-black eyes on an oval head without any sign of a mouth or nose*

Everyone, say hello to Vitamin D!

AC: …he's short.

VD: …

*whaps him* Shaddup, AC! That's no way to welcome a newbie!

VD: …*blink*

AC: *mutter grumble*

Bass: *entering* What, there's another newbie?

*points to Vitamin D* Bass, this is---

Bass: _Crud _he's short!

*slaps forehead*

Jules: 'Crud he's short'. I like it.

AC: *nod*

*waves hand irritably* Stuff it, guys! Bass, this is VD.

Bass: Hi.

VD: …

Bass: …

He doesn't talk, Bass.

Bass: He doesn't? What, is he mute?

Oh no, he can talk. He just doesn't.

Jules: Why not?

Ask him.

Bass: Vi---I hate you, Avis.

AC and Jules: *snicker*

Ha. But anyway, this is Vitamin D, sometimes known as VD should space or fancy dictate it be so. His appendages tend to fall off.

VD: *arm falls off*

Muses: …

VD: *puts arm back on*

Muses: …

He never speaks, unless he gets a chance to say 'his word'.

AC: And that is?

Go on, Vitamin D. Say it.

VD: *in a soft, high voice* Destroooooooy…

Muses: …

Jules: Boy, I can't wait to see what this guy does for the ratings.

Bass: Avis, what kind of nightmare did you have to endure to want this guy as a friend?

AC: Yeah, Avis, who messed with your head?

It's not like that! I just had this word 'destroy' stuck in my head for some weird reason, and then I had this guy without a voice, and---

AC: And you fell on your head and decided to act loony, as usual.

Did not!

AC: Did too!

DID NOT!!

AC: DID TOO!!

*adopts corny fighting pose* Hyyaaaahhh!!

AC: *adopts another corny fighting pose* Whutaaaahhh!!

Both: *begin air-sparring*

Bass: Great. Just great.

AC: Hi-yeeeeeeeee!!

Bass: That's it, you met the new muses, goodbye.

KEE-YAAA!!

AC: WHA-HIIIIIII!!

VD: *arm falls off*

Disclaimer: "…"---Vitamin D

__

And death shall have no dominion.

Dead men naked they shall be one

With the man in the wind and the west moon;

When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;

Though they go mad they shall be sane…

And death shall have no dominion.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion, by Dylan Thomas

_Chapter Fourteen: _

Though They Go Mad

Jackle jumped back as Reala and NiGHTS came up the hallway, heading for Wizeman's throne room. Both parties stopped in surprise.

"Jackle?" said NiGHTS.

"Where have you been?" snarled Reala.

"His body's not there!" said the boy.

"Oh my," whispered the girl.

"…Hi to you too!" said Jackle.

Reala shoved his captive aside, careful to keep a hand on the boy's wrists. "Jackle, you empty-headed moron, where in the Dream World have you been?"

"Wizeman needed to talk to me," explained Jackle, glancing at the two humans with interest. "Are those the two Courage dreamers?"

"Yes, but what do you mean?" demanded the black and white clad maren. "You were in there all night?"

"No, duh," grinned Jackle, seeming to find the question amusing for some reason. "I was in the cells, what did you think? Obviously he was angry at me. But he got over it."

Reala, for once, was speechless. NiGHTS stared at the demi-maren as well, trying to comprehend the reason for Jackle's apparent careless outlook. Then he saw the demi-maren's slightly unfocused eyes, and he jumped in quickly.

"Uh, is Wizeman still in his throne room?" 

Jackle looked at him and nodded. "It's not like he leaves it often," he grinned. His vacant eyes focused for the merest second on NiGHTS', and then they danced to the girl. He blinked, and for a moment NiGHTS thought he saw a strange knowledge come into them. Then it was gone.

"All right, well, we have to take these dreamers to him, so see you later. Nice talking to you, and I'm glad you're back!" That said, he began heading down the hallway once more, his eyes begging Reala to follow without question. His brother did so.

Jackle smiled as the other two nightmaren retreated, waving at the staring humans. "Okay, see you." And he floated off towards his room.

Reala glanced at NiGHTS. "What on earth?…"

NiGHTS looked away, his expression a mixture of disturbance and sorrow. "I think whatever Wizeman did to him may have been too much."

Reala blinked, finally realizing what his brother meant; then the subject was forgotten as they halted in front of Wizeman's door. He straightened, and his thoughts were as close to ecstatic as was possible. A feeling of pride settled within his heart. _'This is it---the first real step towards our rule of the Waking World.'_

NiGHTS was also thinking, although his thoughts were of a decidedly different view. _'Well, this is it. We're taking over the Waking World. There's no more time.'_

Wizeman's voice beckoned them in as soon as they knocked. "Enter!"

They pushed the doors open, leading their captives in with them; Wizeman's eyes were filled with eagerness as his hands floated down to surround them. "These. These are the Courage dreamers?"

Reala bowed, NiGHTS following his example. "Yes, Lord Wizeman. These are the two you desire."

Wizeman leaned back, as if a weight had been removed from the back of his mind. "Very well done," he finally said. "You are both my greatest creations by far."

Reala's expression filled with contentment at the praise. A small seed of annoyance was murmuring deep within him, however. _'I was the one who took this army and turned it into something worthwhile, I was the one who taught the young ones, and I was the one who took charge and led and planned and worked. NiGHTS did nothing. And yet he and I are both 'your greatest creations'? Has my work done nothing to improve myself in your eyes, Wizeman?'_

NiGHTS grimaced and looked away as the girl's light blue eyes stayed focused on his own._ 'Why won't she stop staring at me like that? I hope Wizeman won't hurt her when he's taken the Courage Ideya…but soon, thousands of people are going to be hurt. We're walking into a full-scale takeover on innocents, using soldiers that haven't even reached adulthood yet. What are we doing?'_

The mental message echoed through the minds of the entire nightmaren population, although this time it was spoken more quietly. _'You need search no longer; both Courage Ideya have been found. Return to the castle to arm yourselves and prepare for our takeover of the Waking World.'_

This announcement, while given in a much more cheerful light, caused just as much commotion as the first. Nightmaren all looked at each other and wondered.

"We're taking over the Waking World?"

"Now?"

"But I haven't learned to do a double swipe with my pike yet!"

"Lance, Aster, lance. If you're going to own my lance, you have to refer to it the right way."

"Okay. I haven't learned to do a double lance swipe with my pike yet!"

"…"

"What about me? I can't even shoot a bow yet, and I'm in the archery thing!"

"Part of the Archers, Cheldon, not 'in the archery thing'. And you're learning."

"If you say so, Miss Tessa…"

"Tessa, didja hear? We're taking over the Waking World!"

"Yes, Terrance, there was a little voice in my head that said, oh so quietly, 'We're taking over the Waking World'. Do you know what else it said?"

"What?"

"Your brother Terrance is a master of stating the painfully obvious."

"Hey!"

Morgen was already in the weapons chamber and busy when the first waves of nightmaren looking to arm themselves came in. He grinned and began directing them to different piles, gesturing with his head or elbow when his hands were busy. "Over there, take two bundles, I made sure there were enough for each of you to take two---can never have enough arrows, you know! No, over there, my lady, those swords are for the guards! See the way they widen out near the tip? You're looking for the ones over on the left wall---see? Yes. What's that? Lances are over in the corner, by the bow rack. Yes. Hello, milady, what can I do for you? Wait a moment, are you allowed out of bed yet?"

"I need a lance," replied Luna. "And no, I'm not. But did you think I'd let my kids just wander into the battle field without me being there?"

"No," admitted Morgen, scrubbing hard on a sword that had looked like it needed a bit of polishing before it was ready for use. "Over there. The boy in the blue and gold's looking at them. But what happened to your other one? You wouldn't part with it for any money, last I checked."

"It's got another owner now," called back Luna, heading for the lances she'd been directed to.

"Who?"

"Aster."

Morgen grinned and continued polishing with all his strength. "You're a great teacher, you know that, Luna?"

"Shut up."

NiGHTS swung his legs slowly, staring down at the landscape around him. He was sitting on his bedroom windowsill, legs hanging out over the edge. Below in the courtyard he could hear nightmaren murmuring and talking, weapons clashing as maren got in a last bit of practice. Clawz was down there as well, sharpening his claws, Gillwing was looking for Jackle, whom he had heard was seen, Puffy was eating a last meal before the campaign began, and Gulpo---well, he didn't know where Gulpo was, but there was a good bet he was floating placidly in his lagoon, ignoring the fuss about him. Typical Gulpo.

Reala was everywhere. Assigning weapons, checking divisions, yelling orders, giving out strategies; he was all places at once, overseeing every last detail of the invasion to come. He was doing what he loved best; being a general.

NiGHTS, looking down on all the activity below overshadowed by gray, felt sick.

"What's wrong with me?" he whispered. "No—what's wrong with _them_? Why can't they see? Why can't they feel how ugly it all is? Why can't they realize these kids aren't ready for this yet? What's wrong with these people?"

A cawing at his shoulder alerted him of a companion. He started, then sighed as the crow perched on the balcony next to him. "Don't scare me like that."

AC somehow managed to look apologetic, despite the fact that his features were less than expressive, he being a crow. NiGHTS understood. "It's okay. Bet you think I'm crazy, don't you, talking here to myself?"

AC shook his head. NiGHTS smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're used to crazy with that…crazy…demi-maren…"

He trailed off, suddenly remembering that calling Jackle crazy was all too appropriate now. AC looked at him questioningly, wondering why he'd suddenly faltered; NiGHTS avoided the crow's intelligent stare. "Speaking of Jackle, why aren't you with him? He's back, you know."

The crow jerked its head back in surprise. "What, you didn't know? Yeah, he's back. He was heading to his room, the last I saw him…why don't you go and see him?"

The only answer he got was a quick goodbye caw as AC took off flapping, heading straight for Jackle's balcony. NiGHTS had to smile as he watched the crow disappear around the castle wall. _'Wish I had a pet that loyal,'_ he thought fondly.

Then he sighed, looking out across the nightmare landscape again. An indifferent ruler, a fanatic brother, an insane friend, an impending war. And a girl with brilliant forget-me-not eyes. 

He had much to think about.


	15. The Storm Breaks

~AN~ Oh my, so many things to do!

Bass: *whap*

I'm NOT gonna babble, so BACK OFF!!

Bass: No.

Rrgh. 'Hem. Anyway, reviewer business…first off, since it's the most important, cookie business!

Bass: *slaps forehead*

Lesse, Tier needs another one, but then NightSky might feel left out…oh, heck. *hands Insomnia a plate of Hamentaschen cookies* 

Insomnia: *begins passing out Hamentaschen to all reviewers present*

Thanks ever so much for your kind words, Molly. It's my dream to someday become a writer; your encouragement means so much to me!

Nix, sorry, but this chapter's also kinda short---so, to make it up to you, I'll put up two at once. ^_^ Sorry you had to get up early. I myself woke up at five this morning….-- Urg.

(Oh yes---and the 'Impending Sense Of Doom' gave me a laugh.)

There, business is done. Enjoy, all!

Disclaimer: For once, I'm actually---drum roll, please---putting a DISCLAIMER here! *half of the muses faint in shock* I forgot to mention this earlier, but several of the songs Morgan sings in this story are lyrics from Enya, not myself. She owns them, not me. One is my own, something I wrote when I was ten and living in Iceland. I own that. It came from my mind, which was taken over by little purple men a long time ago. They own me.

__

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,

I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;

I hear my echo in echoing wood---

A lord of nature weeping to a tree…

A steady storm of correspondences!

A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,

And in broad day the midnight come again!

A man goes far to find out what he is---

Death of the self in a long, tearless night,

All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

In A Dark Time, by Dylan Thomas

_Chapter Nineteen: _

The Storm Breaks

It was time.

The clouds were changing from grey to black, folding into giant piles of darkness. Thunder rumbled nearby, and lightening could be seen in brief flashes as it jumped from one cloud to the next. The winds were high.

The entire first-level population of Nightmare was assembled within the courtyard, trying to brace themselves against the wind that whipped about their cloaks and lashed their hair against their faces. Inside Wizeman's throne room the leaders waited, standing about in various states of readiness. Clawz was pacing quietly at one end of the room; Puffy was nervously tapping her fingers against her wrist; Gulpo, as always, floated calmly, not even bothering to keep his eyes open.

Gillwing stood nearer to their ruler's throne, and Jackle stood next to him, leaning against the giant nightmaren's side. The two had been reunited briefly before being summoned to the throne room, and their meeting had been a pleasant one. Jackle was happy to see his loyal friend again and enjoyed their conversation immensely. Gillwing enjoyed it as well; he did not see the difference in Jackle that the others had picked up. To him, Jackle was still Jackle. 

The other High Seekers had already begun to suspect that something was different. Reala half believed NiGHTS, who was sure that Jackle was now officially unstable. Puffy only knew that there was something vaguely unsettling about the demi-maren, as if he were half living in another world. Clawz sensed a disturbing difference in Jackle's personality but couldn't quite put his paw on it. Gulpo knew at once what was wrong, but being Gulpo he didn't bother sharing.

However right now no one was pondering unstable demi-maren. It was time for something bigger to happen.

Outside, the winds wrestled in the air, and lightening bolts warred in the angry clouds. 

It was time. The storm was breaking.

NIGHTS swallowed as he opened the door of the cage; a small cage, one that was perched on top of a tall column and hidden in the deep shadows of the recesses behind Wizeman's throne. The space around it was chaotically unrealistic; far ahead at the front of the room Wizeman's throne could be seen, and windows opened on both sides, but behind them and around them the walls seemed to stretch out into infinite space. Galaxies twinkled at the corners of their eyes, fading into painted stars once looked at head-on. The cages were only partially realistic things, thrown together carelessly by a preoccupied ruler. 

The captive stepped out into his arms obediently. He winced as those stunningly blue eyes traveled up to meet his own, and had to turn away. Why did her eyes have to look so much like Reala's?…

"Come on," he murmured, shooting a glance over to where his brother was freeing the other prisoner.

Reala nodded sharply to the boy. "Follow me."

The boy looked up quietly, leaving his cage as ordered and closing his eyes when Reala grabbed his arms. The general ignored the boy's silence and brought him down to the floor of the room, pushing him ahead roughly. "Come on."

NiGHTS led his captive along beside, trying not to meet her eyes. Ahead of them, he could hear Wizeman speaking to the others; his master's voice was strangely muted in his ears, as if he were listening from far away. 

All he could make out was the general lines. Wizeman seemed to be speaking about the campaign to come; something about the Clock Tower being the door to reality. The High Seekers gathered about were looking up at him quietly. NiGHTS found himself studying them; Puffy, standing to one side, her hands toying nervously with the necklaces strung about her neck. Clawz, crouched in a calm yet versatile pose, ready to drop an insult or leap out of danger with but a word, gazing up at their ruler with hooded eyes that did not reveal his interest. Gulpo, floating silently, absorbed in his water world and only listening to Wizeman's words as if he were humoring him. Gillwing, sitting stretched out at length, his honest, stupid eyes looking up with a willingness to please. Jackle, leaning against his giant friend's side, arms folded and one hand playing with a razor-edged card, his eyes jumping about the room and his mouth curved into a small smile. The demi-maren's eyes darted to meet his gaze, and for a moment they melted into a strange intelligence; then he looked away, and began playing with his card again.

And Reala. His brother floated beside him, silent, looking ahead at their master with eyes that were full of pride and power. His body moved with a sleek, muscle-bound stride, every movement vibrating with strength and demanding respect. His face was strikingly white, framed in a vibrant thickness of red and black, and his mouth was carved into a jagged smirk of success. His eyes were ice.

He wasn't Reals any more. He was Reala, the Nightmaren General.

NiGHTS closed his eyes, feeling dizzy. A kaleidoscope of thoughts and images were whirling through his head; a storm of memories and ideas. Thoughts that had been gathering in the distance were coming together.

__

' "It just doesn't sound fun…what if he's wrong?"---shadows all around---"I assume you had another reason for coming here besides doing a fairly good impression of a seven-year-old?"---waking to a dream---"No, just wanted to say goodnight"---lost in a strange world---"Don't call me that!"---running, running from a dark cloud---"Miss Luna!"---unable to fly, unable to fight---'They need more time…'---feeling shadow reach into his very being---"Your eyes are pretty"---and pulling out---'Her eyes are like Reala's…'---an Ideya…'

And suddenly the dream made sense.

"W-what's he gonna do to us?"

The boy answered the girl quietly, his voice soft. "Don't worry, ma'am. This's just a dream. Pretty soon we'll both wake up."

"That's the whole point, stupid!" Reala. His brother was speaking, his voice full of the flush of success. "You'll wake up all right---after Wizeman's remade reality into one big, living nightmare!"

The girl gasped, staring as Reala flew ahead to inform his master that all was ready; then, she turned to face him, her hands clasped in a begging gesture. "Mister NiGHTS? Please, you gotta do something quick!"

He jerked back, staring at her, staring at those cursed blue eyes that were his brother's. "B-but I'm one of the bad guys…" _'Where did that come from? Bad guys?'_

"No, you're not! I…I can see it in your eyes---there's so much more inside of you!"

Her words were the melting point. Slow trains of ideas that had come to being long ago, turned into secret knowledge and then hidden in the corners of consciousness, rumbled within the cloudy masses of thought. Realizations that had been hidden within the boiling fog of his mind, leaping from one thought to the next but never sparking into flame, jolted out, streaking across his mind with white flashes of knowing light. And it all came together, each part melding with the others to form the whole, breaking free in one great, blinding flash.

The storm had broken.


	16. We Shall Have No Time For Dances

~AN~ Due to the NID comic writers at Archie having more authority than myself in the area of 'being correct', for once I thought I may as well please anyone here who's a purist. I've followed the first comic's general line of action and wording, although I couldn't help but go off on my own little tangent _sometimes_.

AC: A lot of times.

Well…yes. So enjoy.

Disclaimer: My bird is now chewing on the keyboard. However, he's too small to actually press down the buttons, so I'll do it for him. Iugoq983w64piuh

__

The sunlight on the garden

Hardens and grows cold,

We cannot cage the minute

Within its nets of gold,

When all is told

We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances

Advances towards its end;

The earth compels, upon it

Sonnets and birds descend;

And soon, my friend,

We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying

Defying the church bells

And every evil iron

Siren and what it tells:

The earth compels,

We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,

Hardened in heart anew,

But glad to have sat under

Thunder and rain with you,

And grateful too

For sunlight on the garden.

Sunlight On The Garden, by Louis MacNeice

_Chapter Twenty: _

We Shall Have No Time For Dances

The storm had been unleashed. Thunder ripped through the sky in cataclysmic waves of sound. Clouds tore apart, etching broken circles about the castle's North Tower, swirling like eddies in a river's banks. Lightening screamed across the sky, lacing the clouds with white fire. Wind gusted across the wet castle stones with a whistling shriek. Rain fell in torrents.

Outside, maren dashed for cover, taking shelter in the covered walkway that surrounded the courtyard or diving into the nearest windows. Shivering from cold and dripping wet, they waited.

The storm had broken. It was time.

Inside, Wizeman watched the breaking storm with a feeling of utter relief. They'd made it.

The assembled High Seekers looked up as one, watching him, waiting for his command. Outside an army of nightmaren waited. Behind him were the two Courage Dreamers. 

It was time.

His voice boomed out, echoing across the empyrean walls and shaking the very foundations of the tower; the nightmaren about him all drew back, acknowledging his authority. "The time has come. Bring me the Courage Ideya."

There was a pause. Jackle was looking behind his master, eyes focused on something beyond the giant throne. "Uh, I hate to ask, but…what Ideya?"

"What?"

The object of the room's attention instantly changed from Wizeman to the space behind him, where the girl's cage stood. Empty. She was nowhere to be seen.

She was gone.

Clawz blinked, his red eyes darting about the room, confused. "Where is she?"

The other High Seekers imitated his movements, all glancing about as if the dreamer was simply hiding in the shadows about them, all looking for the girl. All but one.

Jackle was looking for NiGHTS.

Wizeman's voice broke across their startled thoughts. "No matter. We will use the energy from…the second dreamer…"

This statement drew their attention to the shadows behind him once again---and the other empty cage. The boy was gone as well.

"What?" roared Wizeman, his displeasure so strong that the entire group cringed under the feelings of their master's anger. "Quick! Find them! Find them at once!"

Clawz crouched, ready to spring into the shadows and flush out the dreamers from wherever they were hiding. He jolted to a stop when Reala's voice rang out, heavy with indecipherable emotion, his golden claws pointed accusingly at a figure poised on the edge of a windowsill, two glowing orbs within its hands. "I don't believe it…it's NiGHTS! He has them!"

His brother's violet eyes met his, and they were filled with an utterly chaotic mess of sadness, sympathy, and confusion.

NiGHTS stared at his brother's eyes, shocked. Their ice blue irises were glowing from within with an angry, hostile light; they shone blood red and sickly yellow, surrounded by that frozen ice blue. His emotions were clear in them, and one stood out above all the rest. Betrayal.

NiGHTS' voice rang out strong, barely wavering before he managed to bring it back under control. "Look, guys, I thought it over---and a whole universe made over in Wizeman's image…" 

He turned away, tensing as if about to jump. "…seems a little too one note and boring to me."

Without hesitation he leapt out, clutching the two Courage Ideya before him like twin torches of unwavering flame. His last words came back to them, blown in by the howling winds outside.

"And boring just ain't my style!"

Reala let his hand fall, every muscle within his body trembling. He'd seen his brother's eyes, and he knew what this meant. Something unimaginable, something he'd never thought would happen. NiGHTS had rebelled.

His brother was the enemy.

Nightmaren taking shelter under the covered walkway jerked their heads up as their master's voice roared out in fury. "Don't just stand there, you fools! GET HIM!"

Their attention was immediately attracted to a purple streak flying over their heads, a shooting star of violet and crimson. Behind it another star passed, this one a flash of white and black. Both were headed for Mystic Forest.

Insomnia blinked. "Is that NiGHTS?"

"And Reala?" added Terrance.

Tessa watched the two nightmaren swoop over the castle walls and continue on, neither slowing. "No, idiot, that was Clawz. And Puffy."

"Shut up."

"What was that about?" questioned Chank.

"I don't know." His brother shrugged.

"Maybe they're opening the bridge?" suggested Aniline.

Heckler raised an eyebrow. "I thought Wizeman was going to do that."

"I know I wasn't asked," declared a thoughtful voice as Morgen passed by, handing out the last of the arrows to the archers, his expression abnormally subdued. "But that didn't look like an opening ceremony to me."

He paused to glance up at the skies, where the two could barely be seen highlighted against the furious storm. "That looked like a chase."

The High Seekers were absolutely silent. They had only made it to the windows before Wizeman called them back; at that speed, Reala was the only one who would be able to keep up. They would be useless.

They loitered about, all trying to keep from making a sound and every now and then stealing a glance at their master. Wizeman stood in the middle of the giant room, silent; they could almost feel the anger radiating from him. No one dared say a word.

Jackle looked up at Gillwing, closed his eyes, and laid his head tiredly against his friend's flank.

Branches snapped and bats took flight as two nightmaren streaked through the forest, one trying desperately to lose the other. Neither noticed the scratches and bruises they received from overhanging limbs and corners cut too tightly. Both were completely focused on their desperate flight.

NiGHTS swallowed as he flew, feeling his stomach twist in painful disgust and clenching his teeth against the desire to retch. _'I can't believe this---how can they not see it? How can I do this? What about…Reals…'_

Reala's body was tight as a whipcord, every muscle straining to keep up with his brother, his mind lashed into a fury of questions. _'How can he do this? He's trying to stop the mission! Has he always planned to be a traitor? My brother---is a traitor? WHY DIDN'T I SEE IT?'_

NiGHTS tucked the Ideya to him and performed a tight barrel roll, just barely managing to fit through a tiny opening in the writhing branches of a weeping willow. Reala missed the opening and shot up, diving into the tree where the branches were thinner and he wasn't likely to brain himself if he went in fast. NiGHTS was nowhere to be found.

Reala shot out of the branches and snapped his head around. Apart from the babbling of the Windingwater at his feet, nothing could be heard above the crashing of the storm. He'd lost his brother.

He snarled angrily, clenching tight fists and throwing back his head to howl at the sky. "NiGHTS! WHY?!"

His head dropped to his chest, and he floated silently, every nerve twitching with the clamor of emotions running through him. His voice was hoarse. "I can't believe that you're a traitor, NiGHTS. I can't believe you're trying to destroy the mission."

His eyes closed. "I can't believe what you've done…Traitor."

The tone became more brutal and harsh. "Traitor! You're no longer my brother---my brother NiGHTS is dead! You are only the _Traitor_!"

Winds howled around him, agreeing with his declaration. He shot into the air, heading into the very level of the storm, and let himself become lost in the immense power.

Slowly a dripping purple figure, still clutching two glowing orbs, emerged from an air pocket under the moss-hanging banks of the Windingwater. Violet eyes followed the Seeker General as he tried to dull his emotions by losing himself to the raw power of the winds that tore across the sky.

NiGHTS moaned, pressing a hand to his stomach, feeling an immense sickness boiling within him. He couldn't do this…

An image of Reala's flame-lit eyes came back to him, filled with animosity and hate. He closed his own eyes and tried to picture how Reala had looked before he became consumed by his desire for power, before he had been 'improved'. Nothing would come. Only the vision of a girl's eyes, pleading eyes of the purest forget-me-not blue.

Reala's eyes.

"I'm doing this," he whispered, heading off into the forest. "I'm doing this for you, Reals. So you'll come back."


	17. The Dawning Of East And West

~AN~ Don't worry, it's not _quite_ the end. Yet.

To DB---I guess you haven't read the reviews or some of the earlier author's notes, as I think this whole thing has come up at least ten times… In answer to your question, no, I haven't played the game, and it shows quite often. I have been informed that the comics are not canon---I was recently involved in a debate concentrating around that very question---but they're the only type of 'official' things I have access to. Thanks for pointing that out.

I like going off into my own little sidetracks---love it, in fact---but I thought I'd do a little experiment to see whether everyone preferred me staying closer to canon than I have, or they liked originality. Under the circumstance, there doesn't seem to be much emotion either way---

Bass: Avis, you moron, you've only gotten two reviews. 

Ahem. UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, there doesn't seem to be any radical emotion either way, so I'll just continue on being my usual 'Gee Let's Just Swirl Things Around A Bunch Without Paying Attention To What'll Happen When We Do' self. Please, tell me if you'd prefer a more canon story. An author needs to know what their audience wants!

Oh yes, and Happy Birthday to my dear friend Dusk! 

Insomnia: Come on, everybody! Sing along! Ha---*is gagged simultaneously by both Bass and Jules*

…Bass is giving me dirty looks, so I'm going to shut up now.

Disclaimer: "I was not."---Bass

__

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,

Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;

But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,

When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth!

The Ballad Of East And West, by Rudyard Kipling

_Chapter Twenty-one: _

The Dawning Of East And West

The storm was beginning to die.

The midnight moment had passed, and the gap between the Waking World and the Dream World would not be available to be opened much longer. Time was pressing.

Overhead the clouds were beginning to break, and sky that had not been seen for days began to peek through tiny slits in the calming masses. The wind did not shriek so shrilly as before.

Two Nightopians that had taken shelter under Mystic Forest's eaves during the downpour peeked out as the rain began to slow. For a moment they both were content with looking out; then one pushed the other into the rain. His victim fell out in surprise, and was promptly drenched. He gave his giggling companion an evil glare. "Napp!"

Napp was still giggling musically; then he gave a yelp as he was dragged into the rain along with his friend. "Hey!"

His friend folded his chubby arms and stuck out a small pink tongue. "Serves you right."

"Does not, Snuze!"

"Does too!"

This went on for a minute or so; by the time sixty seconds had gone by, however, they had forgotten what they were arguing about and were happily involved with playing tag in the rain. This new game was abandoned as something large and purple shot by. "'Scuse me, make way! Renegade nightmaren comin' through!"

Snuze fluttered back, curious. "Really? Never met one of those before. I'm Snuze!"

"I'm Napp!" injected his friend, not wanting to be left out. "We're Nightopians!"

NiGHTS paused, shooting a desperate glance at the Clock Tower not a hundred yards away. "Um…I'm NiGHTS. Look, fellas, I'd love to chat, but I've got a universe to save."

"Really?" The two Nightopians fluttered hard to keep up as he headed for the Tower's top window.

"Yes!"

"How?"

"By hiding these dream spheres. Now shoo!"

They followed him into the top window, halting when they saw its otherworldly interior. Snuze looked around at the warped, emerald-green walls of the glowing room. "You gonna hide 'em in here?"

"No, through here. This is the doorway to Reality. It can only be opened once in a hundred years…and these spheres are the key!"

He pointed at a small, gradually shrinking hole in the pulsing walls. Napp and Snuze fluttered around it curiously before getting shooed away by a desperate NiGHTS.

"If I can shove 'em into the real world," he explained, thrusting one of his glowing spheres into the hole with a crackle of energy, "then Wizeman will never get his hands on them!"

The other sphere followed the first, shoved through the still-shrinking hole with desperate strength. The doorway, however, was still growing smaller. With a shriek of energy a chip broke loose, and the Ideya slid through the hole.

NiGHTS yelped as a burning shard of Courage Ideya buried itself in his chest, merging with his skin as if it were supposed to be there all along. He pressed his hands against it, his mind flashing to the past like a case of déjà vu. A burning pain in his chest, and a glowing diamond of red…

Slowly he raised his hands, staring at the shard that was flashing from his chest. There was no pain, only a pleasant warmth. And it felt right.

Turning, he fled the tower.

Reala flung himself on his back, buffeted about by the rough winds, rain pounding against his face with harsh drops, thunder cracking in his ears. Sheer, unlimited power, and no one else but himself---no one to get attached to and betrayed by. No one. Just he, and power.

Perfection.

Then the power began to fade. He opened his tightly-shut eyes to find that the storm was breaking up, showing spaces of sky. The winds were dying. The storm was disappearing.

That meant the door was too. Everything came back, and he felt anger surge through him again like a wave of fire, burning in his throat, making him want to howl at the sky. He wanted blood.

A flash of purple attracted his eye. NiGHTS was emerging from the Clock Tower---and he was not carrying anything.

Reala's eyes flashed wide. The Traitor.

Without another thought he was off, streaking through the air, golden claws begging to feel flesh.

The storm was dead.

Wizeman watched as the clouds dissipated, slowly stretching into strands of cotton candy and wool, thin whitening ripples of mackerel scales against a stunningly blue sky. The rain had stopped, and growing things bent to the ground by its fierce onslaught were able to pull themselves up once more. Slowly the land came to life.

His furious bellow rang across the plains of Nightmare, echoing through the clearing sky.

Time up.

NiGHTS heard the bellow, but he did not pay attention to it. He was staring at his brother.

Reala floated in front of him, panting, his fiery eyes wide and dilated, his claws flexing angrily. His hate was tangible.

NiGHTS floated back, horrified. His brother had abruptly turned into a monster.

"Reals…" he whispered.

Reala's eyes flashed even brighter, an almost feverish light glowing from within. "I'm not Reals---and you're not my brother!"

NiGHTS leapt back, staring in horror as golden claws buried themselves in the tree he'd been standing in front of only two seconds earlier. "Reals, calm down! I just think that we shouldn't take over a world of innocents with so many unprepared---"

"_Traitor_!" Reala's bellow was filled with anger, his eyes shining with hurt turned to hate. "You betrayed us, traitor! _Traitor_!"

His hand grasped the hilt of the sword that he had donned that morning in preparation for their conquer of the Waking World. For their doomed plan. Without a sound the sword leapt from its sheath, its dark blade only reflecting the dimmest of light. This was Reala's own weapon: Dark Rhapsody. He had named it for the sound it made as it was swung; a high, vibrating pitch, a song for battle. A song for blood.

NiGHTS drew Lucky Star in response, realizing that not to would be putting himself in danger. "Reals, please---"

"Don't call me that!" Reala shouted at him, his voice hoarse. "Only my brother NiGHTS called me that---and NiGHTS is dead. You're the only one here, Traitor!"

And without allowing NiGHTS another word, Dark Rhapsody slashed out in a dark, singing arc.

The High Seekers were silent, cowering before their master.

Wizeman stared out across the landscape, knowing that Reala and NiGHTS were fighting somewhere. At least, Reala was fighting. He could no longer sense NiGHTS.

_'Why not?' _he asked himself, frustrated beyond all reason. _'Why is he hidden from me?'_

His voice was low, a deep monotone. "Leave me."

The leaders hurried to obey. Once they were out they all, by silent consent, headed straight for Great Hall.

Clawz collapsed in his velvet chair, staring at the fire in a dazed way. "I don't…believe this…" he managed.

Puffy fell back on her sofa, following his example. "Neither do I."

"I can't believe NiGHTS is…a traitor…" continued Clawz. "All this time, and we never knew…"

"I just can't believe it," agreed Puffy.

"I can."

Their eyes traveled to the demi-maren, sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace, his head in his hands and his eyes following the dancing flames. Clawz sounded annoyed. "What do you mean, you can?"

Jackle's voice was thoughtful, but distant. "Isn't it obvious? Out of all of us, he was the most likely to snap first---especially after seeing that golgoth hurt the younger ones. Yes, if anyone was going to go first, it would be NiGHTS."

The others continued to stare. "Why?" murmured Puffy. "What do you mean?"

Jackle turned half-way, looking at her through deep green eyes flecked with gold. "He's different," he whispered. "All we three are." His eyes focused on the distance, as if he were staring at something very far off. "I thought he was rather like a star…"

"What are you talking about?" demanded Clawz. But Jackle had turned back to the fire, and did not answer.

Swords clashed, not with the ringing of metal so often told of in stories, but with a harsh grating sound of steel upon steel and a shriek of energy as chips were broken from the edges. The two nightmaren strained, swords caught together by the chipped blades, then parted, both circling and looking for an opening. In an instant one of them would find one, and their swords would meet again with another grating screech. Both maren were sweating.

Their eyes were filled with emotions, but neither spoke to the other. Both were concentrating on surviving. 

Lucky Star flashed down in a circling cut, and Dark Rhapsody swung out to meet it, singing. Again the blades met and rebounded, and again the transferred energy hummed through the chipped blades and tingled in the opponents' hands. It was a brutal dance that repeated itself over and over again. 

NiGHTS blinked as a bead of sweat rolled into his eye, then gasped and jerked back as Reala took advantage of his momentary distraction. He just barely managed to meet Dark Rhapsody's blow, but his wrist was wrenched from the sheer power. He bit back a cry and pulled away.

Reala hurried to pursue the advantage now opened up to him, but NiGHTS returned his offensive with one of his own. A lucky slash, one that ordinarily would have been almost impossible to pull off, managed to finish itself, and Reala could not block it in time to save his arm from receiving a gash. He hissed between his teeth and jerked away.

NiGHTS' face filled with pain and sorrow as he watched Reala nurse the wound, blood rolling off his arm in crimson spheres that dropped silently and spread a red patch across the mossy forest floor. Reala caught sight of his opponent's sympathy, and his expression turned into a snarl. Ignoring the wound, he flew towards NiGHTS once again.

Dark Rhapsody continued to sing its battle song, and Lucky Star continued to flash with the light now shining down from the clearing sky. Neither swordsman would surrender, and neither could defeat the other. The two continued to fight, and the morning began to break.


	18. Falls The Shadow

~AN~ *bow* Thanks, Nix and Fang. From the next story on I'm going to go my own way---thanks for helping me come to that decision. It's so much more enjoyable for me that way. *laughs at the thought of either of you being ignorant* I appreciate your support!

In other business areas, a big apology to you all for not updating sooner; however, I was slightly busy in the past few days, and just couldn't. Hurricane Isabel was heading for our town, you see, and my parents decided to evacuate because (a) we live on the banks of a river and (b) a very large, hole-filled oak tree was about ready to come down, and if it were blown to the southeast it would have fallen directly onto my parents' bedroom. Ergo we left home, hoping we wouldn't come back to find it flooded _yet again_---myself specially, as my room is in our mostly underground basement---and waited.

As it turns out Isabel went west of us, so apart from having no electricity until a few hours ago the house was fine. The tree cracked a few feet up from the ground, but fell west to our relief, and is now kept from crashing to the ground by several other trees' supportive arms. Our parrotlet Kiwi took the evacuation quite well, which was a tremendous relief to us all. (Our last two parrot lets, both which we had at different times and loved dearly, died of stress-related illness; Scruffy went through a move, and Jester went through another evacuation, this one initiated for flooding causes. We were very worried about Kiwi with this evacuation, but he took it without a blink.)

Enjoy the chapter, all!

Disclaimer: "Shouldn't you tell them this is kind of the last chapter?"---Bass

Disclaimer Num. 2: "SHHHHHH!"---Avis

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Here we go round the prickly pear

Prickly pear prickly pear

Here we go round the prickly pear

At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception

And the creation

Between the emotion 

And the response

Falls the Shadow

_Life is very long_

Between the desire

And the spasm

Between the potency

And the existence

Between the essence

And the descent

Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is

Life is

For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

The Hollow Men, by T. S. Eliot

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Chapter Eighteen: 

Falls The Shadow

Nightmaren wandered about the castle, confused and unsure of what to do. Their leaders were all brooding in the Great Hall, Reala had gone after NiGHTS, whom it was rumored had betrayed Lord Wizeman, and their ruler himself was alone in his throne room, silent. No one knew what was going on.

Morgen had a pretty good idea, though. He hummed as he polished his sword yet again, knowing that the weapon didn't need it but wanting to do something with his time. Eventually he began to sing. "Pilgrim, how you journey on the road you chose; to find out why the winds die, and where the stories go. All days come from one day, that much you must know…you cannot change what's over, but only where you go…"

Tessa sat down next to him, waxing her bowstring and watching the younger maren move about in the courtyard, talking and whispering. "I wonder what this is all about."

"The moment of convergence is passed," said a strange voice in a vague monotone. It was absolutely indescribable, that voice; soft, and yet perfectly still, with never a flux in tone. The emphasis was low and calm. RagDoll's constant smile was still in place as she leaned over them, eyes wandering to the sky. "One hundred years will pass before it comes again."

"One hundred years, hm?" replied Tessa, not looking up from her bow. "Well, whoever messed up is going to get it well. Lord Wizeman won't like waiting a century."

"He doesn't," RagDoll said, and moved away, her head lolling to one side as she walked. 

Terrance sat down next to his sister and jerked his head at the black and white clad maren that was going down the walkway. "Weird lady," he murmured. Tessa inclined her head in agreement.

Morgen continued to polish his sword, still singing quietly. "Each heart is a pilgrim, each one wants to know the reason why the winds die, and where the stories go. Pilgrim, in your journey, you may travel far, for pilgrim it's a long way to find out who you are…"

Dark Rhapsody sang through the air, and then landed deep in the mossy earth, its song silenced.

Reala stared at NiGHTS, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened. NiGHTS, a person who had only started learning swordsmanship a few months ago, had disarmed him with a single well-placed blow.

NiGHTS stared back, equally shocked. Slowly he let his hand drop to his side, quivering. _'Lucky Star was named well,'_ was the only thing he could think.

He swallowed. "Reals, I want you to know---"

"Don't call me Reals!" snarled his brother, clasping his wounded arm tightly in an effort to stem the blood flow. "You can't call me that!"

"Rea---Reala, I'm not trying to go against Wizeman, really, I'm just trying to keep people from dying."

Reala's voice was deadly calm. "You betrayed us, Traitor. You betrayed _me_."

NiGHTS gaped at him, wanting to deny it, wanting to beg forgiveness, wanting to try and explain. He never got a chance to do any of it.

Reala saw his hesitation, and like a good fighter he took advantage of the situation. 

With one swift blow NiGHTS was unconscious at his feet.

His brother stood over him, gazing at the fist that had just smashed into NiGHTS' temple. The fist that had given him the advantage. It was his strength, and he'd used it. He won.

Yes. Strength was power.

Ideya Capture---nightmaren feared them. Made of an unknown energy, Ideya Capture were small, empty spaces blocked by four pillars and boxed in with clear energy fields; there were five in the Dream World, the most well-known one placed in Spring Valley. They were known as prisons, although where the tale had come from no one really knew. Nightmaren couldn't break free if they managed to get inside, but nobody was ever actually put in them, after all. In fact, there wasn't even a reason for them to be there.

Until now.

Silence reigned in the halls of Nightmare Castle. In the Great Hall the High Seekers waited, shooting each other glances and tapping fingers until barked at to stop it. Students gathered in large clumps in the hallways to discuss the goings-on in whispers, exchanging ideas and rumors. Leaders gathered in smaller groups, also exchanging views and ideas, although theirs were usually more trustworthy. Everyone was waiting.

The High Seekers all straightened as Wizeman's voice echoed into their minds. _'Come to me. I wish to speak to you all.'_

They gave each other questioning looks and did as ordered, filing out of the Great Hall and heading for the throne room. Several maren looked up at them as they passed, and one or two were bold enough to break the silence. "Please, sir, what's going on?"

"You'll find out soon enough," was Clawz's favorite reply.

When they entered, after bowing, curtsying, or bending their heads respectfully, they found that Reala was standing by Wizeman's side. He looked ragged, as if he'd just been through a fight, and one or two bruises looked like they had been dealt by a much larger hand than NiGHTS', but he looked happy all the same. The general held himself tall, head high, his eyes glistening with pride. Wizeman gestured to him with a languid hand.

"Reala has overtaken NiGHTS. The Ideya are gone, and we must wait another century to put our plan in motion; Reala has apologized for his failure, and I have accepted his apology." 

Reala winced at the mention of accepting apologies, and his hand went briefly to a large bruise under his eye, but he said nothing.

"Reala has taken NiGHTS on in hand to hand combat," Wizeman continued. "And he was won. He has proved his superiority as my most worthwhile creation."

Reala closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his muscles tremble from the emotion running through him.

He was finally perfect.

Jackle's smiling voice broke through the gathered group's respective thoughts. "Boss, what about NiGHTS?"

Wizeman's eyes turned to focus on the demi-maren, noting the vacant look in his eyes. Then he held a hand out, willing the eye in its center to act as a looking-glass for a moment. Within its orb a picture of Spring Valley appeared.

The Ideya Capture there now had an occupant.

Wizeman's voice floated down to them, quiet. "He has rebelled against my will, and therefore I have condemned him to eternal imprisonment. He will never fly again."

Silence followed his declaration. Behind the other High Seekers, Jackle pressed his face against Gillwing's side and whimpered. 


	19. Epilogue

~AN~ Hullo, all. S'not quite the end yet!

Bass: Actually, it is.

Oh yeah. 'Hem. Anyway, on to author's note business…first off, thank'ee ever so much for pointing that out, Molly! Now I know the difference between Ideya Capture and Ideya Palace…*nod* Thanks!

To Nix and Fang: My parents are very careful with matters concerning internet safety and such, so I had to ask them first before I gave out my address. ^_^ I'm honored that you'd want it, but I'd rather not just post it in a public place, so I'm putting it up in my bio section. If you could be kind enough to leave a review once you get it, so I can take it down as soon as I get that e-mail? I'd be very much obliged if you'd take the time!

There, that's all. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: "I can't believe it's already the end, guys. I mean…heck, I thought this torture was gonna drag on another three weeks!!"---AC

Disclaimer Num. 2: "*WHAP*"---Avis

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And death shall have no dominion.

No more may gulls cry at their ears

Or waves break loud on the seashores;

Where blew a flower may a flower no more

Lift its head to the blows of the rain;

Though they be mad and dead as nails,

Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;

Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,

And death shall have no dominion.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion, by Dylan Thomas

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Epilogue: One Hundred Years Later

The boy looked around in wonder. He was in a sunny valley, grass waving at his feet, wind blowing gently through his hair. Paradise.

He grinned and began running across the fields of grass, whooping and flinging his arms wide to catch the wind, finally slowing to spin in dizzy circles until he collapsed, panting, into the soft, welcoming carpet of green.

He lay there for awhile, watching the clouds float by lazily overhead, and was just inspecting a daisy that was blooming to his right when a shining glint caught his eye.

He blinked, squinted, and then sat upright, squinting again. It looked almost like a giant bubble, only box-shaped…and there was something inside.

He bounced up and bounded nearer, leaping over the daisies and wildflowers that sprouted up in the thick grass. As he came closer, he realized that the thing inside was a person---a sleeping person, lying stretched out on the air as if he were lying on a bed. He was floating.

The boy slowed and walked up to the thing, staring at its shimmering surface and wondering if it was safe to touch. It looked sort of like those force fields he'd seen in sci-fi movies…

The person inside stretched, yawned, and opened shining violet eyes, meeting his startled blue gaze with dreamy inquisitiveness. 

Then the person's expression changed to one of shock, and he leapt up, pressing against the sparkling walls. Instantly sparks flew and he pulled back, wincing as if in pain, but still staring at the boy outside. His eyes were riveted on the glowing red orb that floated lazily about the boy's body.

His lips moved, and the boy could almost make out the words. "Courage Ideya…"

The person straightened, his expression forcing itself into a calmer air, and held out one hand as if asking the boy to take it. The boy eyed him, trying to figure out what was going on; the person gestured to his hand, eyes begging. 

Finally the boy reached out, wincing as his hand touched the barrier, but no sparks flew; his hand passed through without any pain. He felt the person grasp his fingers tightly, emotion trembling through his flesh---and then he felt himself become covered in a warm feeling of life, and the person was gone.

He did not feel scared; he instinctively knew he could trust the person that was now within and around him. A voice spoke, and it came out of his own mouth. "Thank you. I'm NiGHTS---and I'm free."

~The Beginning~


	20. Backword

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~Backword~

Well, we're at the end.

My but it's been a fun ride, hasn't it? I think I enjoyed writing author's notes just as much as I enjoyed writing the story…guilty pleasure kicking in, I guess. 

It may be a bit before the next story comes up---for, rest assured, there will be a next story---as I write a story as a story, not an installment plan. I'll sit down for an hour or so each day for a bout a week to think over what I've done and where I could go, the next week I'll fine-tune the storyline, then I'll work out quirks in the story, then I'll race to try and figure out where I'll stick all these odd pieces that my muses throw at me for the fun of watching me try and juggle it all…Ergo, it may be a bit before I get something new up. So, because I'll be depraved of my wonderful guilty pleasure, I'm getting in one last hurrah of ranting before I close!

I'd like to say thank you to those of you who reviewed. You can't imagine how much I appreciate the time and effort you all spent critiquing---your reviews have helped me grow and learn as an author, and have provided both helpful suggestions and much-needed encouragement. I'm hoping that my future lies in the realm of writing, and this is the place for me to learn the art; you've been my teachers and cheerleaders combined. You've helped me re-assess my writing style, and you've shown me areas in which I can improve or I excel. Some day, I'd like to make a living through writing, and you're helping me move closer to that goal; your comments, critiques, compliments, and caring words have encouraged and helped me more than you know. Thank you all!

My beta reader, aside from intensely commenting on my grammar trip-ups, also let me know when something wasn't quite clear in the reference department. Ergo I'm going to try and explain anything that might not be clear…and no, I do NOT mean that I will explain the entire story.

Some of the chapter names in this story were references to other pieces of literature, so I'll explain them now. *ahem*

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2: The Thousandth Man

A reference to the poem "The Thousandth Man" by Rudyard Kipling. The first verse goes as follows: 

__

'One man in a thousand, Solomon says,

Will stick more close than a brother.

And it's worth while seeking him half your days

If you find him before the other.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine will depend

On what the world sees in you,

But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend

With the whole round world agin you…'

I was referring to the relationship NiGHTS and Reala used to have. Key word, _used_…

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3: The Dream Is Deferred

The poem above the chapter, by Langston Hughes, was the reason for this title. We don't know what happens to a dream deferred---but we're about to find out, aren't we?

5: Though They Have Eyes

A reference to the Bible verse "Though they have eyes, they see not; though they have ears, they hear not." No one seems to see the storm that's gathering…

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6: But A Servant When He Reigneth

Another poem by Rudyard Kipling, "A Servant When He Reigneth" was in its turn derived from Proverbs 30, verses 21-23. "For three things the earth is disquieted, and for four which it cannot bear. For a servant when he reigneth…"

The poem and verse were actually placing the servant who reigns in a low light---Kipling explains why---but I must admit to quoting out of context. I was speaking of NiGHTS and his future position: "For three things the earth is disquieted…for a servant when he reigneth." The impending fiasco's going to turn Nightmare on its head---I'll say the earth's disquieted.

10: Foreboding: An Ill Wind Blows

You know the saying 'It's an ill wind blows nobody good'. Every inhabitant of Nightmare's going to be hurt by the storm kicking up---truly an ill wind, for once.

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11: This Hideous Dream

Reference to the quote above, from Julius Caeser.

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12: Who Knoweth What The Day Brings Forth

This is a line from a Bible verse---unfortunately, I can't remember where I read it, and so I can only ballpark it. The coming day will be one full of upheaval.

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13: The Heroism We Recite

Derived from the poem "We Never Know How High We Are" by Emily Dickinson.

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We never know how high we are

Till we are asked to rise

And then if we are true to plan

Our statures touch the skies---

The Heroism we recite

Would be a normal thing

Did not ourselves the Cubits warp

For fear to be a King—

NiGHTS will, eventually, have to face the duty of heroism; it's a pity it's not an easy task.

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14: Though They Go Mad

Obviously I'm referring to the poem above.

16: We Shall Have No Time For Dances

Another reference to the poem…

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17: The Dawning Of East And West

The dawn when NiGHTS and Reala finally break their ties together, and the two sides are formed. For East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.

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18: Falls The Shadow

Figure it out. 

There, that's it. The trilogy's finished, the story's done, and my career as an author is at an end…Yeah, right.

Don't worry, it isn't the end of the saga, just the end of the story. Another one will follow soon.

It may be awhile, of course, due to the fact that I write stories all at once, not in little increments like most people here at ffn do. However, I'll be back as soon as I can be.

And don't think I won't be around---as everyone knows, I can't keep out of things for long. You'll probably see yet another stupid conversation or interview within a short time…*listens as readers collectively stand and leave* Yes, I do believe I'll do that.

~Avis~


End file.
